


A Study in Black

by AgarJelly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Authoritative Sirius, Drama, Enigmatical Remus, Eventual Wolfstar - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Mature James, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Platonic Starbucks, Sherlock themes, Timeline Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgarJelly/pseuds/AgarJelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the mind of Dr James Potter, Consulting Auror, Sirius Black, is the scourge of criminals and shoddy Pranksters everywhere. But when the mysterious Moony & Mr Lupin are brought into the picture, James has yet to wonder whether his best friend's brilliant mind is capable of bringing down the one person who might just understand Sirius the most. Magical AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr Black, by Dr J Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter is life, but it isn't mine. Also, any Sherlock references belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and are therefore not mine.

**Mr Black, by Dr James Potter**

The first occasion I met a one Sirius Black was on one cloudy morning of September 1st, 1971: the day we were to venture to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time. We met upon the Hogwarts Express, and after a curious incident involving a group of sixth year Slytherins' underpants, violent cursing and yellow puss, we were branded henceforth as partners in crime and best friends.

 

From that moment onwards, I had spent many a year of my childhood with that peculiar boy: solving puzzles and Marauding our way through our education, and – much to our delight – still managing to pick up exceptional grades in between. We even invented enjoyable nicknames for ourselves after we managed to achieve the strenuous task of becoming illegal Animagi in fifth year (purely because we knew we could do it). Sirius was labelled as Padfoot – after the frightful, mysterious hound mentioned in muggle legends. I, myself, was referred to as Prongs, for the antlers of my Stag form were dominantly sturdy and powerful to that of a normal deer.

 

Not everything we endeavoured in was with petulant intent and occasional illegality though, for we could also be serious and mature when our conversations would swift to uneasy territory.

 

Namely: the uncanny mechanics of Sirius Black's mind.

 

What first struck me as bizarre about my remarkable friend was how he would often speak of unorthodox pretences. Also, he had an extraordinary gift to always be able to see what others could not – much to my incredulity. As well as this, Sirius was brilliant of the mind; being able to store any piece of information about his choice whenever he chose, in his 'Palace of solitude'. The aforementioned was located within his brain – meaning that inevitably no other individual could enter this Palace - hence the 'Solitude' segment of its title.

 

But despite my friend's skill and talent with regard to logic and the process of deduction, Sirius had yet to understand the workings of Human emotion. I recollect that of the many different branches, he would often be more accustomed to that of the anger and rage sections – for he could have a ruthless temper. Among this, the emotion that he would speak of in disgust was that of love; he would speak of the 'L' Lexis as if it were the plague.

 

 _'Love is an emotional thing, James, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. You see, the emotional qualities of human existence – if you can call them qualities – are antagonistic to clear reasoning; the thing I strive for most in this world.'_ He once remarked idly when I questioned him on his stoic approach to sentimentality in our seventh year.

 

I cannot deny, however, that despite my companion's indifference to such sensations, he always knew the chemistry and the theory behind the emotion and was seldom incorrect when it came to concluding when a person was indeed in love.

 

After all, I fear that he knew of the extent of my infatuation with the dear Miss Lily Evans before even I became aware.

 

But alas, with passing years, we grew up and graduated from our beloved Hogwarts; and with this separation from our sanctuary we grew apart – much to my extreme disappointment. For the denouement of our school years, unfortunately, brought us into the midst of a dreadful war, which had been gradually brewing throughout our adolescence; maybe even before.

 

By late summer of 1978, I was stationed amongst other youths like myself, willing to join and fight for the justice and liberation that the demon Lord Voldemort averted us from with vigour. My beautiful Lily and I were stationed deep within the secret society: 'The Order of The Phoenix', which conspired against Voldemort and would eventually be the stigma to bring about his downfall. But I confess that we all entered the war a little heavy headed...

 

After witnessing Fabian Prewitt's disastrous death while we were mercilessly attacked by Death Eaters, I grew melancholy, for seeing one die so young and my not being able to prevent it, proved too much for myself. It was due to this experience that lead to my training in the medical aspect of Wizardry, and by June 1979, I became a fully qualified Healer – I was a fast learner, and we were growing desperate for more in that time of war.

 

During this time, little correspondence would be made between Sirius and I, albeit it was not through lack of trying. As Owls were regularly intercepted, we could not trust this method of communication, and my work prevented me from visiting my best friend. I suspect that despite my lack of communication though, my friend knew perfectly well what tasks I was undergoing.

 

Despite this though, the first time I saw Sirius again had been not long after our departure from Hogwarts in 1978, as it was at my very own winter wedding, which had taken place that very same year. He had eventually released himself from his cocoon of misanthropy and decided to be my best man – for I would not have it any other way – and gave the most remarkable speech a fellow could ask for (despite his reclusive personality, Sirius could be very charismatic when the appropriate social conduct emerged).

 

We spoke that day, as if we had never left each other's side, for we conversed like the adrenaline filled teenager's we were supposed to be; free of the war. I spoke of my studies and of the horrors that had plagued me during the commencement of my journey through the real world, to which he would confess that he had already deduced as much – much to my pleasurable astonishment. My friend, however, when asked, would speak of his progression through his art of observation and deduction, as well as several uncanny mysteries he had endeavoured in to prevent the spread of the association in the Dark Arts, and informed me of his newly placed position of Consulting Auror within the DMLE at the Ministry, much to my bemusement.

 

_'But Sirius, there is no such occupation!' I remarked._

 

_To which he replied, 'Of course there is, Jamesie, for I contrived it myself. I am the first in my profession, you see.'_

 

An amused, but exasperated palm upon my forehead sufficed as a reaction to this news...

 

Among this, I also introduced my old companion to my lovely wife Lily – of whom Sirius always held a grudge against in school for: _'She won't admit it, will she?! She clearly feels the same way! Look at the flush that procures her cheeks; the dilation of her pupils; the coat of saliva that covers her lips! Who does she think she's fooling?!'_

 

It was this recollection, therefore, that instigated my amazement when the two greeted each other amiably – although this atmosphere did not last long, for they were soon squabbling over who was the higher achiever in Potions. My wonderful Lily was a full time Potion Brewer for St Mungo's, as well as for the Order, and my friend excelled in the art from a very early age, and even wrote numerous theses with regard to Alchemy and Potions. The knowledge that both the fiery haired woman and the jet black haired man were about as arrogant and stubborn as each other was not entirely reassuring for me, nor the guests.

 

In short, the conversation lasted 1 hour, 24 minutes, and 17.5 seconds, when the argument reached an impasse and it was time to cut the cake.

 

…

 

Shortly after my honeymoon, I promised myself that I would make more of an effort to visit my old friend (having gained (forced) his current address from him at my wedding). When I eventually made to Floo him – September 1979, much to my distaste, for the extensive amount of procrastinated time I had lost with regard to my wanting to visit him was inexcusable – it was to my horror that I found out that Sirius was living in the lowest of places in London. When I extracted myself from his sooty fireplace, I found my best friend collapsed in a burgundy armchair, appearing to be entranced by the ecstasy of the smoke procuring from his chapped lips.

 

 _'Dear Merlin, Sirius! What the hell are you doing?!'_ I almost yelled, causing my companion's eyes to open lazily.

 

 _'I would think that what I am doing is pretty obvious, Prongs.'_ He mumbled nonchalantly. _'Look around you. The layer of dust covering the fireplace suggests that clearly I have been engaged in activities of a much higher importance than cleaning – not as if that is any sort of revelation for cleaning has never been of much importance to me anyway. Furthermore, the distinct smell and taste in the air further points to the cigarette in which I was currently enjoying until you made your entrance known. I could go on about the cocaine, but I fear that – upon inspection – your question may have been rhetorical.'_

 

Once more, my palm found its way to my forehead (a common occurrence when dealing with Sirius Black).

 

 _'Yes, Padfoot, my question was rhetorical. What I was implying was *why* were you engaging in these particular activities.'_ I responded, exasperatedly.

 

 _'Then why did you not open with that statement, James?'_ he asked, just to be irritating. _'Anyway, I should think that you have more pressing matters in which you wish to discuss with me as opposed to my addictions and bad habits... Lily, perhaps?'_

 

I confess that despite my familiarity with Sirius's thought process, I was startled by the remark.

 

_'Really, Padfoot? How did you ever come to that conclusion? I mean, I see no tell tale signs.'_

 

Sirius merely barked out a laugh familiar to that of his animagus counterpart.

 

 _'No, James. You see, but you do not observe.'_ He pointed out. _'Now, here, I observe that the receding mirth of childhood is now gone from your eyes, replaced now by a renewed feeling of responsibility that has clearly been placed upon you suddenly; a responsibility that is somewhat different from that of the war. The scruffiness of your hair can be discredited as it has always been that dishevelled. However, your countenance tells a different story, since it appears that you last showered yesterday night._

 

 _'Now, given the fact that it is now 11:30 AM and your bow and hairline are already oiled suggests that some sort of strenuous event had taken place between the time you showered and now to make you sweat so profusely. The fatigued shadows below your eyes as well as the creases between your brow and hairline point to the obvious that the ordeal was clearly emotional for you, therefore: Lily. Your spontaneous visit here also implies that you are currently undergoing a task that is foreign to you and that your reason for coming here consists of informing me upon the revelation that Lily Potter is indeed pregnant.'_ He spoke this so casually that I struggled for words, for emotion was consuming me.

 

 _'_ _How... How on Earth did you deduce that, Padfoot?!'_ I finally asked, befuddled.

 

 _'Process of elimination, Jamesie.'_ He shrugged. _'Your news was not consisting of anything to do with the war – your expression was not that of commiseration and if your news was anything to do with the Order, I would have known beforehand. The aura that was radiating off you when you came here was that of emotion, albeit also surprise – the kind one does not find when happening upon his friend during his "high" time.'_

 

Making a point, he took a drag of his cancer stick. _'Thus points to the wonderful Mrs Potter, of whom has not been at all well for a while now and had, last night, been forced by her worried husband to be admitted to Mungo's – despite Lily possibly already knowing what her symptoms point to. Also, the fact that her recent change in appetite and cravings for pickle sandwiches made specifically out of home-made bread (shown through the residue dough that is beneath your fingernails and the putrid smell of pickles) also fit together with the other symptoms associated with pregnancy...'_

 

_'Oh Merlin! Sirius, it has been too long; how I have missed this!'_

 

_'...Although the cravings for pickles are to be expected, I have to admit that a craving for home-made bread is quite unconventional...'_

 

I laughed disbelievingly and strode over to embrace my best friend, who froze momentarily before responding. When we separated, I sat back in the navy blue armchair opposite Sirius (the two chairs clashed horribly, although Sirius appeared indifferent to it). We stared at each other for a while: him, slouched in his seat, finishing his smoke; myself, leant forward with my elbows upon my knees, and hands clasped together against my face. When the silence grew too much, I spoke,

 

 _'_ _Yes, you're right. Lily is pregnant.'_

 

Sirius groaned.

 

 _'Of course I'm right, Prongs. Honestly!'_ The seriousness in his tone of voice was cancelled out by the killer grin that had formed upon his aristocratic face. _'But I don't know why you would come break the news to me first...'_

 

It was my turn to laugh condescendingly.

 

 _'Because, you daft mutt, I figured that the Godfather of my child would want to know about the existence of his Godson first.'_ I spoke with an air of seriousness in my voice as well as amusement at my friend's ignorance.

 

Sirius's stormy grey eyes widened at this and he immediately stumped his cigarette out of the wooden side table. He then sat up ceremoniously; his back straightened and his posture pristine.

 

 _'Jamie... Are you sure? I mean, are you not worried I will corrupt your child or accidentally kill it or something?'_ His words were so sincere that I could not help but laugh once more.

 

_'Padfoot, there is not another soul that I would've even considered to be my son's Godfather than you. Yes, I am sure!'_

 

When my son, Harry, was born on July 31st, 1980, Sirius was at my side while I held my wife after she had given birth; Harry was placed in Lily's arms and I felt a warmth within me that I could never explain. My heart skipped a beat when Harry was then given to me to hold. So soft; so pure, this tiny person completed us; his form was so small in my arms. My gaze found Sirius through this, and gingerly, I passed Harry over to his Godfather, who (for once) looked unsure of himself.

 

I remember how he cradled Harry in his long, strong arms and finally let part of his aloof and stoic personality down for my son, leaning down to touch noses with Harry intimately.

 

 _'Hello Prongslet. It's a pleasure to meet you.'_ I recall were his first words to my son.

 

From that moment onwards, Sirius's presence was continuous and consistent at the Potter house. He gave up smoking for Harry, and – after much scolding from Lily and I – cut down on the drugs. He even sobered up to take Harry out occasionally for a ride on his flying motorcycle (an activity Harry absolutely adored and still does).

 

However, despite this happiness, the war was still raging on, and on Halloween 1981, a carefully planned Death Eater attack on Sirius's house left my friend homeless albeit, thankfully, unscathed. Naturally, Lily and I opened our house up for him to stay in, for he basically lived with us anyway. Pride begrudgingly lost, he accepted and we set up a spare bed for him in Harry's nursery (for he would not have it any other way).

 

Due to these recent accommodation changes, I was able to finally peer upon what kind of work my friend pursued. After living in a teenage boys dormitory for seven years, I had learnt to respect everyone's privacy, but when it came to my best friend, I could not help but be a little curious.

 

I finally found out about his work one morning in December 1981, when I happened upon him in the Potter's library researching. Little did I know that from that day forward, all our lives were to be changed forever...

 

Upon my entrance, Sirius looked up from a small note he was reading and made to discard the papers that were filling his desk. I stopped him before he got the chance by placing a calming hand upon his shoulder.

 

'Sirius, please remember: there is no need to hide from me. I'm your best friend.'

 

'You are my only friend, Jamie, and I don't want you, nor your family, to be caught in the middle of my problems, that's all...'

 

'Padfoot, you're being mature and responsible... What is wrong with you?' I joked, lightly.

 

He smiled, 'I'm sorry, Mr Potter, if my sagacious personality insults you, but the work I am doing is top secret for the Order.'

 

Once again, I found myself shocked, for this was news to me.

 

'You're in the Order?!' I asked incredulously.

 

'Yes, I swear I've told you this before.'

 

'No?!' It was more of a question than a statement though, for having thought about it, I could in fact recall him having mentioned the Order before.

 

'Oh... Maybe I just didn't say it out loud... I have a habit of doing that.' Sirius analysed instead.

 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. 'After much thought though, maybe I should share my work with you, Prongs, for it is likely you'll find it interesting.' He sat up in his chair and gestured to the seat beside him for me to sit in, for I was still standing with my hand on his shoulder awkwardly.

 

When I was seated, he began, 'The Order has a spy, I think you are already aware of that.' When I nodded, he continued. 'In times like this, we can only put our trust in a handful of people. At present, the only people in this world that I trust are you, Lily, Harry, Regs and maybe Dumbledore. My job in the Order is to find out who we can trust and who we cannot trust, as well as unmasking the Death Eaters that have murdered good, innocent people. Do you understand so far?'

 

'Yes.'

 

'Basically, I am applying my Consulting Auror occupation to my missions for the Order. I did not want to tell you before in case anything should happen to you due to it. However, after much speculation, I figured that having a Healer's opinion would be of great importance for a case that has recently come up. I think it would interest you, Prongs. Dumbledore just sent it by owl post. Here, have a look.'

 

He shifted through his papers and produced the scroll he had been reading before I made my presence known to him. My friend held it out trustingly; I took it and read,

 

_S.B_

_Recent events have occurred that require your assistance immediately. Lauriston Gardens off Brixton Road. Come quickly._

_A.D_

 

I looked up from the small, vague note and instead at my companion, who was watching me intently.

 

'Well?' He finally spoke, releasing me from my stupor. I coughed while I thought of a response.

 

'Well, what do you make of it?' Was the reply I finally settled with.

 

He smiled like a Cheshire cat.

 

'Quick scribbles from Albus Dumbledore; crinkled parchment and ball-point pen as opposed to carefully practised ink quill? The answers obvious, isn't it?'

Upon my silence, his grin grew wider.

 

'Murder!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this just came to me randomly and has been festering in my Mind Palace ever since. I love Sherlock (both books and TV series) and I love everything Harry Potter so I thought, 'Meh, why not mash?'. This is NOT a crossover though, the characters are all from Harry Potter; I just wanted to experiment with the ideas and the character traits from the two fandoms.


	2. The Five Speckled Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder and shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo third person

**12th December 1981 – 7:00AM**

 

The man growled roughly from the back of his throat; his pearl white teeth: bared in a feral snarl. The writhing person on the floor before the man glared up at him with disgust.

 

_Bastard._

 

'Come on, Dolohov.' The man jeered. 'The fun hasn't even started yet.'

 

The Death Eater on the floor crawled towards the man and reached out his shaking hands to latch them onto the man's trousers. The latter merely kicked him back and used Dolohov's discarded wand to tie him to a dining room chair, tying the ropes tight enough to break the skin. Dolohov tried not to flinch, but the water trickling from his eyes betrayed him.

 

The unknown man then proceeded to twirl the wand between his fingers before he gave it a flick. This caused two vials to appear upon the Death Eater's dinner table. The man then paced around the said circular table. His eyes never left the terrified Death Eater, who stared at the liquids in front of him anxiously as sweat poured down his face.

 

The man then appeared at his shoulder and whispered, 'What's wrong, Dolohov? You're not worried about a little potion, are you?'

 

Dolohov was not gagged, but he knew that if he yelled, the man would almost certainly kill him on the spot – and as much as he brought it upon others so mercilessly, the Death Eater did not want to die. He tried to gain some of his old confidence back as to not show weakness in front of such filth; he was a pure blood, for Merlin's sake!

 

'Of course not, half-breed!' He sneered, 'I doubt you could brew even the simplest of potions, let alone brew one that could kill me – deliberately that is!'

 

The man chuckled in response, causing Dolohov to falter slightly.

 

'Then you are more of an ignoramus than I originally thought.' He laughed. 'Now, you may be half right about one thing though, I myself, would probably not be able to brew such a complex potion – I will not lie about my abilities, as false imagery gives us unrealistic fantasies that consume us and make us weak – this is where you Death Eaters have failed. You're all too arrogant to know that blood purity does not define your power.

 

'But I fear that your small minded brain would not listen to me anyway, so I shall just explain this situation, shall I not?'

 

Dolohov glared at the man. He had not even thought of wearing a mask to cover his identity. He was a man who knew that he was walking out of here with what he wanted; it enraged albeit frightened Dolohov more so.

 

'These two potions are exactly alike – visually that is.' The man explained. 'The game works like this: you choose one of the potions, and you drink it. I shall then pick up the other potion and drink it after you. Understand?' The man was still smiling, but his tone of voice caused that smile to look slightly deranged.

 

Dolohov hated the brute – for he was more that than a man.

 

'Yes.' He answered, bitterly.

 

'Goood!' The man drew out the word patronizingly, which antagonised the Death Eater further. 'So, which potion will it be?'

 

Dolohov remained still. He could move his arms if he wanted to (it was just his torso that was bound to the chair magically), but he would not conform to the man's orders.

 

'I'm waiting, Dolohov.' The man sang.

 

Nothing.

 

The man then sighed exasperatedly, 'I'll make this simple.' He twirled the wand again. 'I'm going to count down from 10, and if you still haven't drunk your potion, I'll rip you to shreds – and I won't be needing this wand. _10.'_

 

Dolohov gulped.

_'9'_

The Death Eater, once again, looked from one potion to the other.

_'8'_

'They are identical!' He cried.

_'7'_

The man chuckled low in his throat.

_'6'_

Tears formed in Dolohov's eyes; he did not want to die!

_'5'_

A miracle then happened, for one of the translucent potions suddenly turned slightly blue towards the brim. The change was small, but distinguishable enough for Dolohov to notice.

_'4'_

Dolohov smiled.

_'3'_

'Gotcha!' He laughed.

_'2'_

 

The Death Eater snatched up the still colourless potion and downed it in one. When he felt nothing, he looked up at the man and grinned cockily. His demeanour turned to one of shock though when he found that the man was still smiling back at him.

 

'Well done, Dolohov.' He congratulated. The Death Eater was not entirely reassured by the praise.

 

'W-Well? It's your turn to drink your potion.' He responded, nervously stuttering his words.

 

He watched the man hold up the slightly blue potion for inspection, still smiling.

 

'No, I don't think so...' He stated serenely as he vanished the potion. Dolohov's eyes expanded to the size of a knut.

 

'WE HAD A DEAL!' He tried to roar, but the sound was insignificant as his throat began to feel hoarse.

 

'Now, you see the thing about that, Dolohov, is that you should never trust strangers – especially ones that break into your house and tell you to drink potions.' The man scolded reprovingly as the Death Eater began to spasm in his chair, like a fish out of water. 'These potions were the same in every way, they were just brewed at different intervals. The one you took was the more effective of the two as it was still in its optimum range. In other words: it hadn't changed colour. Both potions would've proved fatal for you, Dolohov, your choice just made the pain of your death intensify.'

 

The man then untied the Death Eater's bonds (causing Dolohov to collapse upon the floor, writhing), and discarded the wand into the burning fireplace. The man then made to leave through the back door. 'Good bye, Dolohov.' he called back casually.

 

'What the hell have you done to me?!' The Death Eater shrieked, causing the man to turn back.

 

Dolohov's blood went cold as the man's emerald eyes shone like stars against the break of the dawn that reflected the morning light into the room.

 

' _I_ have done nothing, Dolohov. It is you that has killed yourself.'

 

And as quickly as he came, the man vanished into the ending night, leaving the Death Eater to meet his fate – which had been so fairly given.

 

...

 

**14th December 1981 – 11:30**

 

The duo arrived at the scene to find Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, Gideon Prewitt and his team of forensics, including (much to both of their distaste) Severus Snape, already there.

 

'What is Merlin's name is SNAPE doing here?!' Sirius spat bitterly when Dumbledore glided over to them serenely.

 

'Now, Sirius, you know perfectly well why Severus is here.' Dumbledore stated, his eyes shone with slight mirth at Sirius's anger.

 

'Fine. Fine. Just... don't make me look at him, please!' The Consulting Auror replied dramatically.

 

'Potter. _Black._ '

 

Sirius tipped his head back and groaned. 'Snape, do me a favour and piss off.'

 

'Well, unlike you, Black, I actually have a job to do here, so I would much appreciate it if it were _you_ that pissed off instead.' He bit back.

 

'Mimicry insults, Snivellous? And here I thought you were capable of forming new sentences and come back's on your own? Well, I guess it just goes to show that head size isn't proportional to brain power.' James remarked before Sirius could react. The latter snorted and smirked at Snape, who was now glaring daggers at James.

 

'You're one to talk of head size, Potter. I wonder how you ever managed to take off from the ground to play Quidditch with that massive head of yours.'

 

Sirius laughed.

 

'You really don't help your case, Snape.' He retorted, smugly. 'That was an indirect quote off Lily Evans; fifth year. Around about the time she stopped being your friend because you called her a-'

 

'Severus, if could please leave us while I debrief Sirius and James on the recent events which have occurred here.' Dumbledore interrupted before Sirius could finish that sentence and receive a blow to the head from a now very flushed Severus Snape.

 

Snape sneered and grudgingly turned away towards Gideon (who looked just about as pleased to see him as Sirius and James had been).

 

'Greasy git.' Sirius and James simultaneously mumbled under their breath before sharing a thrilled glance at each other.

 

'What was that, boys?' Dumbledore asked, amused.

 

'Nothing, Sir!'

 

'Murder, Sir!'

 

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled omnisciently and while James looked away quickly, Sirius did not even flinch under the gaze, and looked into the old wizard's eyes, lazily. The Headmaster was wearing a faded blue robe today, and his beard was not groomed as well as it usually was. 'If you would be so kind as to show James and I the crime scene, Sir, I have very much been looking forward to this.' Sirius requested. 'James is excited too, he just won't admit it.'

 

Dumbledore nodded, not once questioning James's presence, nor Sirius's enthusiasm for murder, and lead them to the gate at the third house in Lauriston Gardens. The house was clearly a recently abandoned one. The windows were boarded up sloppily and the cracks in the walls made the house look as though it was going to collapse any second.

 

The trio met Alastor Moody there – who was the chief Auror in charge. He muttered his greetings, but Sirius paid him no mind. He simply stared at the house itself for thirty seconds, before opening the gate and walking down the path with his face down, inspecting the concrete. Suddenly, he stopped.

 

'How many people have walked along his path, Moody?' He cried back, eyes still fixed on a particular spot in the ground.

 

The Auror raised an eyebrow.

 

'You, me, Albus and Gideon's team.' he replied confused.

 

Sirius sighed exasperatedly before turning on the spot to face Moody; his eyes closed as if warding off a headache.

 

'Okay, can we assume Prewitt's team has taken into account the man's footprints from the scene?'

 

Moody nodded his head, 'Marline checked for footprints but we found none. We concluded that it is likely the murderer flew in instead of walked in on foot.'

 

'Ha! Not likely!' Sirius remarked. 'No, of course he didn't fly in. Muggle area; this murderer wasn't likely to be so reckless that he risked exposure upon himself in a Muggle community by flying – especially considering the fact that he was going to commit a murder right under their noses, it would've been a risk to even cast a Lumos in an area like this... As well as this, there is no sign of a break in through any of the windows – because if your theory were true (which it's not, but given the chance that it were), the murderer must have entered through a window, as there are no footprints near the door from where the man would've dismounted from his broom – therefore proving that he did not enter through the front door, nor by flying in. Also, there are charms around the house to prevent a break in like this, it would've taken more of a quick spell while flying to break them. The murderer had obviously taken a lot of time to penetrate these protection spells discreetly.'

 

'Well, how do _you_ think he got in then, Black?' Moody snarled, a little affronted.

 

'Let's see...' Sirius responded, unperturbed by Moody's hostility towards him. 'It didn't rain last night so therefore if there were footprints they wouldn't have been washed away. The murderer clearly hasn't scrubbed away the footprints, that would be completely stupid. No apparating in due to the Anti-Apparation wards; no other source of magic would be used, like Floo, etc. Clearly, neither the front door or the gate had been used either.'

 

He walked along the path to the door and inspected it closely. 'No oil marks from the finger tips – assuming he did not wear gloves – so that all points to-'

 

Sirius stopped and turned on his heel. 'Did you check the back door?' He asked the Auror.

 

'No, why would we do that?'

 

'Because you're bloody wizards! Why badger on about constant vigilance if you don't even check for the obvious! _Muggles_ use the front door. We have been wasting time here, for Merlin's sake! I am living in a world populated by IDIOTS! Wizards, who don't want to be seen, use the back door, as well as to abide to tradition. I'm surprised Marline hasn't checked – must be the distraction of having a new boyfriend.'

 

'Boyfriend?' James asked, eyebrows knitted together.

 

'Yes, boyfriend.' Sirius mumbled, speaking in a low tone for Marline was walking towards them now. 'See, she's put on four pounds since our last meeting; wearing a crimson coloured lipstick as opposed to her usual rose; new ear rings, hair pin and necklace with various love hearts on (most likely a present from the supposed lover considering she's never worn them before – given that the colour is not faded and the silver rim has not rusted and is still in pristine condition). She is also wearing a matching, fancy crimson dress robes under her forensic outer robes, if you look carefully. Clearly, she is going somewhere special tonight with the special boyfriend, which is...' He paused momentarily, eyes darting from Marline to Gideon and back again, 'Her boss, it seems... Hello Marline! How are you?'

 

The blond approached them and flicked her loose hair from her face. 'Fine, thank you, Sirius. I heard you'd just arrived and thought I'd come over and see if I could be of any assistance.' She spoke all of this very fast, making Sirius almost snort in amusement.

 

'I was just talking to Moody, Marline. You forgot to check the back gate for any traces of the murderer, it seems.'

 

The girl stuttered, 'Did... did I? I thought we'd covered that... Erm... Thank you, Sirius. I'll get right onto it. Sorry, I've been distracted a lot recently, need to catch up on sleep, I think.'

 

James raised his eyebrows as the corner of his mouth twitched, trying to hide a smile.

 

'Oh no. No, it's fine, Marline. James and I were just about to investigate the back now, if you want to come along?' Sirius replied, biting his lip to stifle a laugh. Clearly, he was equally entertained by Marline's awkward affirmation of his theory as James was.

 

'Y-yes, please. Thanks!'

 

The back was about as dim as the rest of the house. The back gate creaked from dis-use when Sirius opened it, but besides the sound, it seemed oddly easy to open. The consulting Auror hummed before he took out his wand and aimed it at the stone path that lead through the garden to the back door. With a graceful flick, immediately, green footprints appeared across the stones; the murderer footprints.

 

James, Marline, Dumbledore and Moody watched, befuddled, as Sirius ran to the back door eagerly. He then turned and made to walk back towards the group, placing his feet next to the green glows to mimic the length of the murderer's strides. As the strides were much larger than his usual ones, the action made Sirius look as though he were walking in slow motion. The sight was indeed comical, and therefore James could not help but snort with amusement.

 

Sirius then came to a stop back at the gate and looked at all of them in turn before he drew a sharp breath.

 

'The murderer: the length of his stride indicates that his height is around 6''2; he is a lithe man of 21 years in age (the same as you, James). His remnant aura around the house states that he has magic, but it has remained uncontrolled his entire life, therefore dictating that he never went to Hogwarts. The underside of his shoes show that they were over at least two years old, yet they are still in acceptable condition – showing that they have been well cared for, despite being of less than decent quality (implying that the man is poor) – although they do appear to have been worn a lot, therefore suggesting that they are the only pair the man owned.

 

'The typical pattern of the footprints also shows that the shoes were once of a reasonably respectable branch, implying that they were originally used for the purpose of being interviewed for some sort of job or for an important meeting. Due to the fact the shoes have not worn in sooner suggests that the man was incapable of having a job or obtaining any sort of position of reverence. Conclusion: unemployed; rejected from society – because why else would anyone be rejected from Hogwarts if they possessed magic? The balance of probability limits the choices down to the most probable: Dark creature, possibly a werewolf or vampire – although I'll need more evidence to eliminate one of the two.'

 

When he finished his deduction, Sirius turned on his heel and marched back towards the house conceitedly. 'I'll just be having a look at that body now, shall I?' he called back without waiting for an answer.

 

'Incredible!' James murmured admiringly, feeling very proud of his friend's talent. 'Absolutely brilliant!' Marline startled out of some sort of daydream and turned to James questioningly.

 

'A-Are you two...?' She asked nervously. James looked at her as if she had grown a second head. When what she was implying finally clicked in his brain, his jaw dropped and he shook his head feverishly.

 

'What?! No! Of course not, I'm married! He's my best friend and has been for the past nine years! We not... NO!' He cried, his voice going unusually high.

 

'Oh! No, I'm so sorry!' She squealed as a flush crept into his cheeks. 'I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just wondering!'

 

James merely swallowed visibly and nodded awkwardly. He looked around to Dumbledore (whose eyes were twinkling with levity) and Moody (who tried to stifle a chortle by feigning a coughing fit) in embarrassment.

 

'Alastor, can I offer you a cough drop?' Dumbledore asked, amused, when Moody turned purple.

 

'No-' cough, 'No thanks, Albus. Just a tickle; I'll be fine.' The Head Auror laughed- erm, coughed.

 

Feeling rather undignified at having his roughish manliness insulted and laughed at – in James' mind – by people he only just met, James made to follow Sirius into the house. As he was making his way there, he heard the aforementioned bellow from the inside the house,

 

'JAMES!'

 

'What is it, Padfoot?' James asked when he rushed into the dining room where Sirius was. The animagus was knelt on the floor, inspecting the body with his wand in one hand, while beckoning James with the other. The latter perched down beside him. 'What's up?'

 

Sirius looked up at him professionally, a serious expression placed upon his countenance.

 

'You're a Healer, what do you think happened to him?' He then stepped aside to let James continue his examination for him.

 

The body stank of rotten flesh, and was making an unsettling sizzling sound. James inspected the man's face and opened the mouth. The inside was corroding away as if the man had drank acid. James could literally watch as the Death Eater's insides melted away from where he was sat then and there. Instead though, he inhaled through his nose, taking in the odd scent in the man's breath, before taking a pulse (and finding no beat). When he had finished, he stood up beside Sirius, who looked down upon Dolohov's form.

 

'Well?' Sirius asked.

 

'Cause of death: Poison; possibly through forced suicide. Time of death was around seven in the morning. Whatever potion he took, it ate at his insides and is continuing to do so as we speak. Do you agree?' James looked towards his companion for reassurance. He relaxed when he found him to be smiling contently.

 

'Precisely, but what can you deduce about the killer from the body?' He replied to challenge him further.

 

'Erm...' James screwed his face up in determination – although this action only sufficed to make him look severely constipated. Finally, he sighed in resignation. 'Nothing, or at least, nothing you haven't already told us...' Sirius chuckled.

 

'Oh, Prongs, you give up too easy. See here, you disregard the puncture marks, or lack thereof. Now, a vampire would not be able to resist the temptation for a snack, unless it was fully in control with its blood lust – a trait you're unlikely to find in one with a victim right at its mercy. Even then, given the possibility that this theory proves wrong, the bruises around Dolohov's wrists imply that it was a creature with impossible strength; a different kind of strength to that of a vampire. The marks appear to have been made through self-defence (in the murderer's case), suggesting that the man didn't want to touch the Death Eater, out of the habit of being brought up to reject any sort of physical contact, it seems. This is a habit that is driven into one's mind at a young age when inflicted with a condition that is widely discriminated against in society; so much so, that their touch is treated as if infectious (like how HIV is stereotypically treated within Muggle society).

 

'Also, the fact that this murder was committed so close to dawn implies that this was not a vampire – as one would not be so risky or suicidal, especially after going to the trouble of pulling off a highly planned murder, to risk getting "Sunburnt". Therefore, conclusion: Werewolf.'

 

'Riiight...' James drew out. 'Okay, I'm not even going to try and contradict that. So, we have a poor, twenty one year old werewolf (bitten at an early age, I'm assuming), who is thin, 6''2, exiled from society and can do magic, although it is unpredictable and uncontrollable due to the lack of magical education.'

 

'Yes, though, despite the fact he didn't attend Hogwarts, he is very academically inclined.' Sirius added, bending down on one knee.

 

'Okay...' James acknowledged, slightly puzzled.

 

'So, how do you go about identifying the murderer, Sirius?' Dumbledore asked, having just entered the room along with Marline, Moody and, to everyone's misfortune, Snape. At Sirius's silence, Snape smirked,

 

'He doesn't know, obviously. He has no leads! No one can be that good, not even DMLE Black.'

 

Suddenly, just before Sirius could inform Snape of where to shove his worthless opinions, a tawny owl flew into the room and perched on Sirius's shoulder, displaying the small envelope that was attached to its leg. Sirius took the said envelope and shooed the bird off him. The now irritated owl took flight once more, making sure to hit Sirius squarely in the face with its feathery wings in the process, much to the latter's distaste.

 

'Bloody bird.' Sirius mumbled, before opening the seal and tipping out five small stones into his hand.

 

'What on Earth was that about, Black?' Moody demanded. 'And what the hell are those?'

 

'They're Moonstones.' Sirius replied. 'Back in the 19th, early 20th century, secret Muggle organisations used to send messages like this to foreshadow harm upon the recipient of the tokens – a warming, if you will – although they would often use, for example, orange pips, instead of stones. I'm assuming the person who sent this was the werewolf that murdered Dolohov, who by now will have figured out that we know of his affliction, hence the _Moon_ stones, and is therefore sending us a warning; sending _me_ a warning, as the label upon the envelope so blatantly points out that the letter is addressed to me.'

 

'Why you?' Snape asked, petulantly. Sirius smiled, waving the envelope so Snape could see his name scratched in rough scribbles.

 

'Because, Snivellous, I am brilliant.' He answered, arrogantly.

 

This response was met by irritated groans.

 

James watched as Sirius then placed the stones back in the said envelope; he did not miss Sirius's forefinger lightly skim what looked like the edge of an unread letter, before sealing the envelope once more and placing it within the pocket of his ebony outer robe. James decided there must be a reason for not informing the party of this letter, and so remained silent as Sirius stood up.

 

'I think James and I have all we need here. Inform me of your progress and I'll be happy to give pointers if you're stuck, but for now, I have work to do, so good bye.'

 

As James made to follow, Moody barked back, his voice echoed off the walls of the house.

 

'GET BACK HERE, BLACK! IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION, YOU WILL TELL ME NOW!'

 

Sirius turned and sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Without looking up, he informed them of the details.

 

'Murderer: a scrawny, tall werewolf; has light brown hair flecked with grey and wears shabby, patched robes. His face and figure is covered in numerous scars and he has dark shadows around his tired, albeit alert eyes. He's unemployed and most likely homeless as well. Anything else? If not, I really must be going. Good bye, once more.'

 

And turning his back to the three shocked faces of Moody, Marline and Snape, and the omniscient delight upon Dumbledore's face, Sirius and James apparated to The Potters House in London, hearing Moody begin to curse in the fading background.


	3. The Black Carbuncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder and banter and tongues.

**14th December – 14:30**

'So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?' James asked when they had gotten comfortable in the living room. Harry was clapping his pudgy hands together as Sirius used his wand to make various animal shaped bubbles emerge and float towards the giggling toddler.

 

'What _what_ was all about?' Sirius asked, feigning indifference.

 

'The letter, Sirius. This mysterious murderer left you a letter along with those stones. I saw. What did it say?'

 

Sirius charmed the floating bubbles to dance for Harry, before he turned his full attention towards his best friend.

 

'Do you really want to be involved, Prongs? Your family could be in danger because of what you know.' James looked at Sirius coolly.

 

'My family is constantly in danger, Sirius; these are tough times. Also, you constitute as my family just as much as Lily and Harry do, and therefore it is my obligation through our friendship and brotherhood to help you with any of your problems.' He stated relentlessly.

 

Sirius's guarded expression softened at that and he smiled at his best friend in admiration. He then finally nodded his confirmation and dipped his hand in his pocket to fish out the envelope. Sirius looked from the envelope to James while he bit his lip, before he gave in and finally handed it over to him. James took it curiously and opened it to find a poem written upon the parchment.

 

**The Doctor was on the side of the angels,**   
**He claimed to be no sinner,**   
**But everyone has dirty secrets,**   
**That they intend to wash away in a river.**

**The Doctor searched north, south, east and West,**   
**But found nothing in his wake,**   
**Then he found himself the perfect place,**   
**He found himself a Lake.**

 

James finished re-reading the poem several times; his face had screwed up in a concerned manner. 'I don't understand.'

 

Sirius smiled, contently.

 

'I didn't expect you to, Prongs. It's a riddle, you see.'

 

'Well, I guess that's rather obvious, but do you know what it means?'

 

Sirius suddenly snatched the parchment back enthusiastically from James and pointed towards the first line, guiding James' curious eyes to focus their attention on the first stanza.

 

'You see this? "The Doctor". Now, this detail is possibly one of the most important parts. The man in the riddle is a doctor and therefore a person is based on him/her; someone we know.' Sirius began. James nodded half-heartedly as he tried to understand. 'We'll leave this part for now and turn our attention to the rest of the riddle.'

 

He moved his finger downwards to the second stanza. 'See how this is written: "north, south, east and West". West stands out most – not because it's the final one written – but because it is the only one capitalised. The writer did this deliberately; he specifically highlighted the word West for us. Given the context the poem is written in suggests that the basis of the riddle is to lead us to some sort of location.'

 

His long finger moved randomly around the parchment before gripping the side like normal. 'Yes. Definitely a location. Mentions a river, suggesting that there is a river close to the location but not at the location. There is, however, a lake, as shown through the denouement of the poem: "He found himself a lake". This location is described as perfect, so clearly it is of a high class. The mention of the river could possibly be the River Thames (due to its popularity, or else the writer would not have bothered to write it in there). Therefore, we can deduce that the place is here in London. With me so far?'

 

'No, but carry on...' James replied, puffing out his cheeks and wiping his face tiredly. Sirius was too excited to be perturbed by his friend's lack of understanding anyway.

 

'In London, but not near the Thames; contains a lake, therefore narrows the possibilities down to a Park or Garden. Described as beautiful, therefore, one of the more important parts of London, maybe Westminster...'

 

'Yes, but why mention good, old Saint Doctor with a dirty secret?' James asked, exasperatedly. Sirius stopped his rambling and scanning of the parchment to look at James with wide eyes.

 

'Say that again.'

 

'Why mention the Doctor?' James replied, puzzled.

 

'No. Your exact words.'

 

'Really?'

 

'Yes!' Sirius all but cried. James sighed and looked directly into his eyes.

 

'But why mention good, old Saint Doctor with a dirty secret?' James recited, eyeing Sirius wearily. 'Why? What have you found out?'

 

'Ever had a secret, James?' Sirius replied mysteriously, running a hand through his ebony hair. His grey iris' were swimming as everything finally fit into place for him.

 

'What are you talking about?' He questioned irritably.

 

'You said saint, James.' Sirius stated, as if speaking to an ignorant child. 'You're the only Doctor we know whose name is in a famous, posh London Park containing a lake and (oh, what a surprise) a "West" Island. St James' Park, Prongs. This person possibly just gave us the exact location of his next murder!'

 

'Why would the murderer tell us this though, Padfoot?'

 

'To make things interesting, I suppose.' Sirius answered, smiling as he rubbed his hands together excitedly. His eyes were clearly hiding something deeper, but James let it drop.

 

'Okay, fine, but how does he know me, and what makes him think I have a dirty secret?' He asked, worryingly.

 

'If he knows me, he inevitably knows you too.' Sirius replied, shrugging. 'As for your secret, it was probably an over exaggeration. Everyone has their secrets, especially people like us. It's fine, Jamesie, don't worry.'

 

'Right.' James nodded, gulping.

 

'Come on then, Prongs, we've got to talk to Moody!' Sirius cried exuberantly. 'Oh, this case is going to be a fun one!'

 

'Murder at St James', how brilliant...' James muttered sarcastically, shaking his head as his friend grabbed his lengthy leather coat from the side of the sofa. He watched, with a pained expression upon his countenance, as Sirius jumped up from his seat to go say goodbye to Lily and Harry in high spirits.

* * *

 

**(Earlier) 14th December – 00:30AM**

 

'Disgusting Half-breed!' Yaxley hissed through clenched teeth. The thin albeit strong pole behind him dug painfully into his back as the man bound him to it abrasively.

 

'You know, Yaxley, I really don't like your attitude.' The man responded calmly as he tied the bonds tighter around the struggling Death Eater's wrists behind his back. 'I mean, are insults really necessary?'

 

'Are you going to let me go if I stop?' Yaxley countered, despite already knowing the answer. The man chortled low in his throat and then moved to tie the man's legs together harshly.

 

'No, I suppose not.' He smirked, yanking the rope.

 

'You filthy bastard...'

 

'The only filth I see is you, Yaxley. You continue talking like that, and I'll have to do something about that offensive tongue of yours.' He then made his point by taking out a pair of Muggle pliers from his pocket. He held the object close to the man's face and gently snapped the pliers in warning.

 

Yaxley spat into the man's face, wiping the smirk clean off him. The man rubbed his face to clean the saliva off. He then responded to the assault by forcing Yaxley's mouth open with his discarded wand.

 

'I warned you, Yaxley.' He stated disapprovingly, before opening the pliers and locking them around the Death Eater's tongue. 'Now, this may hurt, so try not to drown in your own blood by screaming... or do. That way, you'll be saving me a job.'

 

'Fucking bitch.' Yaxley mumbled out with extreme difficulty, considering his tongue was being held forcefully out of his mouth by a pair of strong metal pliers.

 

'Oh, I know.' The man responded serenely, before increasing the pressure being applied to the Death Eater's tongue to the point where it was excruciatingly painful. The sound of Yaxley's piercing screams that followed sent sensational shivers down the man's spine. After a few moments though, the sound became gargled by Yaxley choking on his own blood. He spluttered and spat out a substantial amount of scarlet liquid, along with what looked like the remnants of his tongue.

 

The man watched as the Death Eater coughed up more and more blood, turning the lush grass crimson faster than one could say Avada Kedavra. There was so much of it; it was beautiful. The sight of blood spilling from someone who deserved it. 'You see, Yaxley, that hurts, but think of all the blood you have spilled over the years. Innocent blood. You deserve every bit of this.'

 

The Death Eater on the floor looked up at the man in loathing. This creature was despicable; demented, he thought. Yaxley spat more blood out, this time aiming it at the man's shoes, eyes never leaving those shining emeralds.

 

In response, the man growled as he reached down to grab the wooden pole Yaxley was tied to – like an animal ready to be rotated over a fire – and lifted the Death Eater easily; executing a surprisingly powerful amount of strength for such a lithe person. Yaxley yelped from the sudden movement, excreting more plasma from his mouth.

 

'I think this is dragging out, don't you?' The man asked, carrying Yaxley, like one would carry their shopping, the edge of the lake. 'What's wrong? You've gone so quiet all of a sudden. Cat got your tongue?' He then chuckled sarcastically. 'No... That would be me, wouldn't it.'

 

He held Yaxley at the water's edge, purposely bringing the Death Eater close to the resting current. 'How long can you hold your breath for, Yaxley?' The man asked. The Death Eater merely gurgled aggressively and began to struggle against the pole. 'Are you sure you want me to let me to let you go, Yaxley?'

 

The Death Eater immediately stopped struggling and sighed in begrudging resignation. He then shook his head in answer. The man smiled down at Yaxley omnisciently. 'That's a pity.'

 

Yaxley twisted his head around to look at the man in alarm before he was dropped – fortunately for him – upon the grass beside the lake. The man then kicked him so that he was laying on his back and bent over to look at him curiously and intently.

 

'Don't look so shocked, Yaxley.' He stated when the Death Eater's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 'I am going to kill you eventually, but first you're going to carry a little message, intended for an associate of mine, Sirius Black, to find. Ever heard of him?'

 

The Death Eater shook his head.

 

'Really?' The man sounded and looked genuinely shocked. 'Seems Voldemort's followers are growing ignorant to the threats around them... Not that that's going to be your problem anymore, Yaxley.' He grinned, manically, and procured a black gem from his inside pocket and held it in front of the Death Eater's face.

 

'This, Yaxley, is a Black Carbuncle. The only one in existence; Wizards and Muggles alike aren't even aware that this exists. They believe it impossible; a fairytale. But you see, not everyone is indifferent to its existence, for this stone is significantly precious to a very specific and a very wealthy wizarding family, who claim that the Carbuncle is theirs. Now, this family would just _hate_ to know that it were missing...' He paused. 'But then again, I did manage to acquire it without their knowledge, so how valuable must it have been to them really?' He threw it in the air and caught it again. 'Do you know what I'm going to do with it though, now that I have it for myself?'

 

At the Death Eater's lack of response or movement – stagnated out of fear for himself more than the original rebellion – the man used Yaxley's wand to force his mouth open once more. 'Let me show you. Now, this may hurt a tad.' This time though, instead of placing a pair of pliers in his mouth, the man shoved the Carbuncle down Yaxley's throat, causing him to gag unpleasantly. 'Thank you for that, Yaxley. You have been most helpful, but – if you don't mind – I'll just be leaving now.'

 

The man smirked before standing up. He looked down upon the choking man in disdain and used his foot to gently tip the Death Eater over the edge of the bank and into the lake, where he sunk like an anchor.

 

The man watched with sadistic interest until Yaxley sunk so deep that he was out of sight completely, before taking out a sealed envelope and walking over to a tawny Owl that had just landed in a nearby tree. The man petted the owl, who appeared to warm up to him pretty quick, and then fed her a mouse that he had accio-ed from several metres away using Yaxley's wand. When he had paid the owl, he tied the envelope to the Owl's leg and told her not to expect any more payment from the recipient.

 

She nibbled on his finger affectionately before taking flight.

 

'The is certainly going to be interesting, don't you think?' The man asked himself out loud. He crossed his arms contently and watched as the Owl flew so gracefully through the night sky, carrying his puzzle to Sirius Black.

* * *

 

**14th December – 19:00**

 

'This had better be the right place, Black. We've had to close the Park early, Muggles are already going to be asking a whole lot of questions.'

 

'Oh, I doubt it. Who worthwhile or important can be bothered to visit a Park at 7 at night, Moody. It's boring.'

 

'You'd be surprised, Black, but nevertheless, if you're wrong-'

 

'I am never wrong, Moody.'

 

'There's always a first time for everything.' James muttered under his breath.

 

Sirius chose to ignore the comment.

 

'If you're wrong about this murder case,' Moody continued, undeterred. 'I will hang you by your thumbs, naked, from the Astronomy tower at Hogwarts.'

 

'Well, as much as I'm sure you'd enjoy that, Moody, I'm afraid to say that it's a good job that I'm right.' Sirius winked and replied, smugly pointing to a small bush surrounding the tranquil lake. After pointing the greenery out, he ran ahead from the Head Auror and the Healer and towards the specific spot of grass, taking out his wand in the process.

 

Moody and James, perplexed, made to follow Sirius. As they came closer to the shrubbery, they saw the beginnings of what looked like some alarming evidence. The greenery was covered in burgundy stains that looked suspiciously like blood. Sirius had levitated an object from one of the bushes and floated it to eye level. He stared at it intently, rotating it with his wand.

 

'What the hell is that, Black?' Moody asked. Sirius's lip twitched.

 

'This, Mad-eye, is a tongue.' He responded calmly, his eyes never left the said muscle.

 

'A tongue?!' James cried.

 

'A tongue, indeed.' Sirius smiled.

 

'You don't think that it could've belonged to-'

 

'The next victim? That's exactly what I think, Prongs.' Sirius interrupted. 'Moody, we're going to need forensics in. The deceased is currently residing at the bottom of this lake.'

 

'How the bloody hell did you work that out?' Moody exclaimed.

 

'Easy. Look at the tongue.' He levitated the aforementioned towards the Auror. James – also curious – leaned forward to inspect it. 'Look at the incision made at the top where the tear has been made. It was clearly made by some sort of blunt object; muggle-made.'

 

'Like what?' James wondered.

 

'Looks like it could possibly be pliers.' Sirius answered. 'You'd know, Jamesie, if you had bothered to take Muggle studies.'

 

'I did take it!... for a term...' James retaliated weakly.

 

'And why did you take it for a term before you deemed it boring and quit?' Sirius asked, despite already knowing the answer. James flushed and mumbled something incoherent. 'I'm sorry. What was that, Jamie?'

 

'Lily took it and I wanted to sound cool the next time I asked her out.'

 

'So why'd you drop it then, Potter?' Moody asked.

 

'SheCalledMeAnUneducatedGoosePenis...'

 

'He still doesn't know what a goose is.' Sirius informed Moody, while James looked like he'd been hit on the back of the head by a bludger.

 

'Not the point though! The point is you're going off on a tangent, Black. Pliers; tongue; victim at the bottom of the lake. Ring any bells?' James stated to change the topic.

 

'Oh yes, sorry...' Sirius apologised as he regained his resolved and serious expression again. 'As I was saying, because of the brutal force applied to the tongue in order to separate it from the mouth, theoretically, there should've been a lot more blood than what is present here. You can see some of it here.' He pointed to various patches of brown stained grass in the vicinity. 'But there should be more...'

 

'This is still a lot though, I'm surprised Muggles haven't noticed this earlier.' James remarked.

 

'Well, muggles can be very ignorant to facts that do not concern them.' Moody pointed out.

 

'These are dangerous times, James. It's every man for himself in places as densely populated and well-known as London; by reporting this, who knows what the consequences could've been.' Sirius elaborated. 'Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed – I'm assuming you haven't – but the blood seems to be confined to this area. The murder didn't apparate, therefore, the body has been disposed of somewhere around here.' Sirius concluded.

 

The other two looked around to see that indeed, the blood was only visible where they were. 'Considering that most of the blood is where the tongue was originally spat out – also the blatantly obvious fact that the blood is around the edge of the lake – thus points to the victim being thrown into the lake; the only place that could hide blood from plain sight.'

 

'How do you know that the murderer didn't just apparate them away?' Moody asked.

 

'Because the murderer is the same bloke that murdered Dolohov, obviously. And seen as he didn't go to Hogwarts, he would not be able to perform magic as advanced as apparation.' Sirius answered.

 

'Are you bloody serious, Black?' Moody vociferated.

 

'I am always serious, Moody.' Sirius replied, using the dreadful pun to further enrage the wizard – pissing off Moody had always been a fun pass time for Sirius. 'Why?'

 

'You're telling me that the two murderers are connected then?' At Sirius's nod, he roared, 'For Godric's sake, Black!'

 

'What?!' Sirius squawked petulantly, feeling very much offended at this point.

 

'Oh, you are the most annoying, infuriating, vexatious prick I have ever had the misfortune of knowing!' Moody growled.

 

'You do realize that all three of those adjectives are just synonyms of each other.' Sirius replied nonchalantly; he could not comprehend why the man was actually insulting Sirius for helping with the case. Either way, Sirius did not like his tone. 'And as for prick, I have to say that-'

 

'You finish that sentence, Black, and rest assured I will stand by my earlier statement as well as remove your scrotum right here, right now.' Sirius's eyes widened.

 

'Are threats really necessary, Moody?' Sirius asked earnestly (hands subconsciously moving to protect his balls). 'I mean, I'm not entirely sure of the reason as to why I have irked you so.'

 

'You come here to _my_ crime scene – for this case is mine now anyhow – and tell me straight up that the man who killed this victim is the same man that killed Dolohov. The same man whom you described to us as dangerous, yet provided us with no knowledge with regard to his whereabouts, despite the fact you could probably tell me what he's doing right at this very second. Given all of that, can you honestly say that you don't know why I am pissed at you?!' Moody roared in one breath.

 

'Yes.' Was the reply he was met with.

 

A vein on the head Auror's forehead throbbed painfully.

 

'Maybe we should all calm down, yeah-?'

 

'Shut up, Potter.'

 

'-Yes, sir.'

 

'Look, I'm trying to help you, Moody. I stepped aside before because I thought that the DMLE and _The Order,_ ' He whispered the latter, 'could solve this easy enough. I gave you enough information to put you on the right track, but clearly you have failed. Therefore, now, you leave me no choice but to sort this all out myself.' Sirius spoke up finally.

 

Before the head Auror could assault Sirius in a very painful way, the loud crack of apparation sounded and Prewitt's team appeared at the scene. Gideon jogged over to Moody.

 

'We got your note that you'd been called over to investigate a possible murder case and came so soon as we could, Sir.' He explained to the group.

 

'Ah, thank you, Prewitt. Black's just informed us that the body is at the bottom of the lake, so we'll have to retrieve it quickly.' Moody replied, choosing not to elaborate further.

 

'Of course, Sir.' Gideon then turned to explain the situation to his team, who were all busy whispering in a conspiring manner while looking at Moody. Gideon stopped and hummed in contemplation, before turning back to the Auror and rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively. 'Erm, Sir?' He addressed, deciding not to look directly into Moody's eyes.

 

'Yes, Prewitt?'

 

Gideon pointed to the steadily rotating object half a metre from Moody's face, confused.

 

'Is that a tongue?'


	4. The Invisible Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marline, Murder and a letter.

If the DMLE morgue could be summed up in one word, then that word would simply be: dim. It was not a particularly excitable place to be in – for the walls were blanched, and the floor was coloured a dull grey (with the occasional brown spatter of dried blood that could not be washed off). The only interesting aspect of the place was the bodies that were stored away in their many drawers; each one had their own bizarre story.

 

Marline McKinnon – the woman who ran the DMLE morgue as well as worked as part of Gideon Prewitt's team – was labelled as being just about as interesting as the rest of the department was, although she was often the stigma of the frequent gossip that occurred between her co-workers. Somewhere deep down, Marline knew of the reputation she was gaining through her recurrent boyfriends; lack of friends and fascination with dead bodies, etcetera.

 

Due to this, the witch often kept to herself and spent most of her time in the morgue (only leaving during crime scene forensics, lunch and bathroom breaks, and to go home). If one were in search of her, one would simply direct themselves to the DMLE morgue. Upon entering, they would find the woman either engaged in some sort of analysis or dissection process (or sometimes simply crying, depending on the amount of emotional excursion she had endured at the time).

 

Thankfully, the former was what had occurred when Sirius Black and James Potter found her examining the body of the drowned Death Eater: Yaxley, on December 15th at 11AM. They knocked once before they entered to find her applying a scalpel to the flesh where the Death Eater's stomach would be.

 

'Good morning, Marline. How are you today?' Sirius greeted, amiably. The poor woman startled and nearly sliced open a finger.

 

'Oh, that was close.' She muttered under her breath before realizing that she was not alone and that it had actually been because of someone actually speaking to her that she nearly lost an index and not because of some sort of spontaneous spasm. The witch looked up to find the duo staring at her; one in uncharacteristic admiration, the other in polite bemusement. 'Oh! Hello Sirius! Hello, err... Sorry, I can't remember-'

 

'Dr James Potter, Miss.' James introduced himself, smiling graciously. 'You're Marline McKinnon; last time we met you asked me if Sirius and I were involved in a relationship beyond friendship, remember?'

 

'Oh... Of course.' She chuckled nervously and blushed. 'Pleasure to finally learn your name, Dr Potter.' She held out a hand for him to shake. She only realized that her gloved hand was covered in blood when James seemed reluctant to shake it and awkwardly let it drop. 'Sorry.' She mumbled, embarrassed.

 

'Oh, it's fine, and call me James, please. Dr Potter sounds so formal.' James chuckled, trying to make the conversation more friendly.

 

'Right, James.' Marline smiled. 'So anyway, what are you and Sirius doing here?'

 

'We're here to have a look at Yaxley, if it's not too much bother, Marline.' Sirius answered, walking over to the corpse.

 

The usually scrawny Death Eater was now bloated and had a smoky complexion. His lips were blue and his yellow hair was damp and knotted. Sirius inspected the body and then held one of the man's wrists between two fingers.

 

'What have you found out from the post-mortem so far, Marline?' He asked. Marline jumped at being directly addressed by Sirius and trotted over to the body to join him. James chose to remain where he was until he was called upon.

 

Marline pointed to the wrist Sirius was holding and began to explain.

 

'His injuries only consist of the amputated tongue and the bruises on his wrists and legs from where he had been tied to the pole. That's it. No sign of a struggle. Gideon informed me that you had said the murderer is a werewolf – wouldn't that mean that the likelihood of the murderer using magic to apprehend him is most improbable?'

 

'Correct, Marline.' Sirius agreed. 'This is quite interesting... Anything else though? Why we you cutting him open?'

 

In response, the witch moved to where she had previously made the incision and continued with her procedure.

 

'I'll show you.'

 

Sirius beckoned James over, and the two of them peered at what Marline was doing. She had finished cutting through the victim's flesh and had now begun her attempts at penetrating the man's stomach. When the hole was large enough, Marline put down the scalpel and began to spare no mercy in ripping open the rest of the wall of muscle with her fingers. James raised his eyebrows, while Sirius smirked as if he was deeply enjoying himself.

 

Finally, Marline shoved her hand into the stomach and grabbed something. Sirius's smile dropped and was replaced by a questioning expression instead. Marline removed her hand – which had hold of something – and looked at James and Sirius expectantly.

 

'Here.' She opened her palm to present the small stone that was placed in the middle. Sirius took it from her and began to stare at it intently for a few moments.

 

'What is it?' James asked, intrigued. Sirius turned the stone around between his thumb and forefinger.

 

'It's the Black Carbuncle.' He answered, expression unreadable.

 

'The what?' Marline asked, smiling in confusion.

 

'The Black Carbuncle is the most famous Black family relic; my family's relic.' He explained.

 

'What does it mean?' James inquired.

 

'What does _what_ mean, Prongs?'

 

'Well, clearly the murderer made him – Yaxley – swallow the Carbuncle, so it must mean something. Maybe it's another riddle to another murder.' James theorised.

 

'You're observing.' Sirius smiled proudly at his friend. 'Well done. I agree with you.'

 

'So what could the riddle suggest?' Marline questioned.

 

'So glad you asked.' Sirius answered. 'The Black Carbuncle belongs to the Black family. Due to the fact that most of the victims are Death Eaters and the majority of my family are Death Eaters also, implies that one of them is likely to be the next target – oh joy, that's one less of them to worry about.'

 

'You can't seriously mean that?!' Marline cried, shocked.

 

'Oh, he means every word of it.' James stated, laughing without mirth. 'Which member?'

 

'One of the Lestranges.' Sirius answered easily. 'They got the stone after my dear, old Mother kicked it, because Reg and I had left and didn't care for such an item (although technically we didn't get nothing from her death; I gave Reg Grimmauld Place for his work and we shared the inheritance gold).'

 

'You mean to tell me that you've been living with Lily and I all this time, even though you've got enough gold to get a mansion?!' James exclaimed, incredulously.

 

'Well, you all seemed so happy with me around.'

 

'True. Harry does love having you.' He agreed.

 

'As well as the rest of you.' Sirius mumbled. 'Anyway, it won't be Bellatrix that's been killed – although that would be wishful thinking – because Voldemort loves my deranged cousin so much that he would probably waste no time in hunting down the murderer. This murderer is clever; he doesn't want Voldemort after him yet. If it isn't Bella, then it's either Rodolphus or Rabastan. The murderer will work his way up the chain...'

 

He then began mumbling so quietly to himself that James and Marline had to strain their ears to hear, and even then, his words were undecipherable to them.

 

'Sirius?' James asked when Sirius's rambling to himself grew anti-social.

 

'It's Rabastan!' The Auror remarked suddenly. 'Rabastan's next!'

* * *

 

**15th December 1981 – 21:00**

 

The man sank the rough blade deep within Rabastan's flesh. The Death Eater screamed out and shut his eyes tightly as the man continued to slash into him mercilessly and harshly.

 

_'FILTH'_

 

He craved deep within his thigh, stopping only to shove a piece of wood into the Death Eater's mouth to shut him up. The man hated loud noises, it seemed.

 

'That's enough of that caterwauling, Lestrange. Anyone would think you were in pain.' The man scolded. Rabastan bit down hard upon the wooden stick as the pocket knife moved and this time sunk deeper and deeper into his arm.

 

_'SCUM'_

 

Tears streamed down the Death Eater's face as he bean to sob quietly. Rodolphus and Bella were supposed to be here with him, but they had failed to turn up. This man had come in their place, he had said. He had simply walked into Rabastan's house unannounced, as if he lived there, and appeared at Rabastan's bedroom door to inform him, quite politely, that Bella and Rod were too busy and would therefore not be coming to visit. His tone was so well practised and genuine that Rabastan had actually believed him.

 

And so after getting over the initial shock of having an outsider in his house, the Death Eater had thanked him for telling him (quite harshly, for he was aggravated that his brother had stood him up), and asked the man to leave him. Clearly, the man did not leave and instead, dropped all formalities and proceeded to knock Rabastan out with a poker from the bedroom fireplace and tie him to his bed unconscious. It happened so quick that Rabastan did not even have time to retrieve his wand from the bedside table so that he could have at least tried to defend himself.

 

When the Death Eater had finally woken up, his eyes had met the man holding a shining knife, as though it were his best friend, thus brings us to the scene now.

 

'Funny, Lestrange, I thought Death Eater's were too powerful to feel pain.' The man pondered and he ran the blunt side of the knife down the man's cheek. Rabastan froze, not wanting to move should the man turn the blade and hurt him even more. 'I'd say that maybe this time I was wrong.'

 

'You're crazy!' Rabastan cried, spitting out the piece of wood.

 

'Oh, well spotted.' The man rolled his eyes in exasperation, shoving the Death Eater's own discarded socks in Rabastan's mouth instead. 'If you're only just realizing that now, then you're going to be in for a right shock soon.'

 

With careful precision, the man then brought the blade down on Rabastan's collar and began to carve – this time a bit shallower. The Death Eater sobbed as he wrote, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

 

_'INSANE'_

 

He mumbled something, gesturing to the socks in his mouth; the taste was foul on his tongue. The man sighed and took them away. 'Anything worthwhile to say, Rabastan?'

 

'Why are you doing this?' He gasped from the sudden oxygen intake.

 

'Because you deserve it, and people who deserve it will be punished, just like your dear brother will be punished soon enough.' The man stated easily as he stared into Rabastan's watery eyes. The Death Eater thought his eyes looked unhinging, like a wolf's: feral and clever.

 

'He'll come for you, you know.' He spluttered out suddenly, worry creeping its way into his voice. 'Rod. He'll come for you and he'll kill you.'

 

'I know. I would be greatly disappointed if he didn't try to find me, Rabastan.' The man remarked in response. 'But for him to come, I had better finish what I came here to do.'

 

Shoving the socks down his gullet once more, the man moved down to expose the Death Eater's abdomen. Sparing no mercy, he dug the knife in and began to write the longest and deepest word yet. Rabastan's scream was muffled by the thick material, but his trembling became just as violent as blood poured profusely from his wounds; staining the silver bed covers a deep crimson.

 

The man was also covered in blood – it covered his long hands, ashen arms and tattered clothing – but he seemed unperturbed by the liquid blemishing his countenance.

 

'Good bye, Rabastan.' The man finished, as he (for good measure) proceeded to slit the Death Eater's throat.

 

_'LEGITIMACY'_

 

* * *

 

**16th December 1981 – 15:00**

 

'Slytherin's arse! We're too late!' Moody bellowed.

 

'I gathered as much.' Sirius responded peeking his head into the bedroom. 'Oooo blood! Things just got so much more interesting!'

 

Moody turned to look at Sirius sardonically. The latter of whom was currently bobbing up and down on the spot.

 

'And why is blood so interesting, Black?' He pondered, internally questioning Sirius's mental health - a frequent constant when dealing with the Black.

 

'Because if our murderer is finally willing to get his hands dirty like this, then he's going to get more aggressive and find more imaginative and inventive ways of committing his murders – and with that, there will come more mistakes.' Sirius explained. 'Look! He's carved into Rabastan, surely there must be some sort of slip up in the words he's written.'

 

He sprinted into the bedroom and up to the corpse bound to the bed. He inspected every word slashed into his flesh, and with each word, his enthusiastic smile fell, gradually being replaced with one of vexation and annoyance. 'It would seem that I have underestimated him.' He concluded, forlornly.

 

'Why?' James asked, appearing beside Moody.

 

'This murderer knows full well what he's doing. Everything he does is planned. I underestimated him by thinking that he would be so careless – I have been mistaken.'

 

'Did I honestly just hear Sirius Black say he was wrong?' A cold voice asked in amusement.

 

'Fuck off, Snape.' Sirius and James chorused together.

 

'No.' Snape replied, sneering. 'I came to give my theory on the murderer's next move.' He lifted his head up with dignity and waltzed over to the other side of the bed. Snape lifted up Rabastan's shirt, exposing the word _legitimacy_ for everyone to see.

 

'Oh look: a clue!' Sirius declared as he clapped his hands to his cheeks in sarcastic astonishment. He bounced up and down on the spot. 'Whatever could it mean?!'

 

'The Dark Lord is an expert Legitimens.' Snape stated, coolly. 'I reckon this murderer – whoever he is – is getting a bit cocky and has set himself a higher target. I reckon he's going to try and kill the Dark Lord himself.'

 

'That's brilliant, Snape!' Sirius exclaimed. His demeanour was so genuine that James and Moody looked at Sirius as if he had grown a second head. Snape, however, looked at him with wide eyes.

 

'Really?' He asked, disbelievingly.

 

'No.' Sirius replied almost immediately, feigned smile vanishing. Moody and James both let out a breath they did not know they were holding.

 

'Well, why not?' Snape pouted, petulantly.

 

'Because, Snivellus, our murderer is fucking intelligent enough to know that a simple torture would not kill the darkest wizard of our age.' Sirius explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'He wrote that word especially to throw us off course. This person we're looking for is a werewolf. He also has a good knowledge of the Muggle world as well as the Wizarding world – possibly because he's a half blood – and therefore knows that the word legitimacy would be much more likely to throw a Wizard off course, as opposed to a Muggle.'

 

'What are you talking about, Black?' Snape spat, venomously.

 

'For Muggles, there are two definitions of the word Legitimacy. One: conformity to the law or to rules – this is the least likely, as this murderer does not follow rules, he has his own. So therefore two: the ability to be defended with logic or justification; validity – the murderer simply wrote it to make the victim suffer from more blood loss as well as send the message to us that through murder, he had justified Rabastan for the crimes that committed. In other words, he made him pay for all the shit he did. The scabbing around the wound implies that the cuts were made before he died, therefore my theory is more plausible.'

 

'Whatever.' Snape turned and marched out of the room.

 

Sirius scoffed in amusement before suddenly growing very angry. With an enraged yell, he punched the wall, cracking the plaster and bruising his knuckles.

 

'Whoa, Padfoot! Calm down.' James cried, rushing forward and holding Sirius's shoulders steady. 'What's wrong?'

 

'He left no clues, Jamesie. Ere, he left us a lead to follow. He's stopped!'

 

'Maybe he's just decided to end now, while he's ahead?' James wondered hopefully.

 

'No, Prongs. He hasn't.' Sirius replied, stonily.

 

'How do you know?' James countered.

 

'Because he is like me, James.' Sirius answered earnestly.

 

'I don't understand, Sirius...' James shook his head at his friend's words, trying to comprehend what Sirius meant by that.

 

'No, I wouldn't expect you to...' He responded, desolately. 'Now, if you and Moody don't mind, I'd like to go to my Palace now.' He spoke, closing his eyes softly.

 

James groaned, throwing his head back and turned away from his friend. He walked up to Moody and tugged on his arm softly.

 

'We won't be expecting to hear anything from him for the next couple of hours at the latest so we had better leave. You have to report this and I have to go home to a PMS-ing red head and a moody toddler.'

 

'I know which one I'd prefer, and it's not the latter.' Moody stated honestly. James chuckled and left the room.

 

'Dinner's at six, Sirius.' He called from the stairway.

 

Before Moody turned however, he addressed Sirius himself. 'You had better find him, Black.'

 

Sirius, eyes still closed, smiled omnisciently - although it looked slightly pained.

 

'I will not find him, Sir. Moony will find me.'

 

* * *

 

**21st December 1981 – 11:00AM**

 

'Moony.' James stated, randomly. He looked at Sirius, watching for his reaction. The latter – who had been drowsing in his armchair peacefully – perked up, like a curious meerkat. His eyes met James' and knew that he had just fallen into his trap.

 

'I'm sorry?' He said, expression strangely guarded.

 

'I said: Moony.' James repeated, eyebrows knitted together.

 

'I know, James.' Sirius replied, coldly. 'What about him?'

 

'I'm just curious to know how you know him.' James explained. His hands moved to twirl a loose piece of thread on the arm of the sofa that he was sitting in. They both stared at the action intently and distractingly.

 

'Who says I know him?' Sirius questioned, shaking his head to bring his attention away from the action.

 

'No one, but you referred to him, during the Lestrange case, as being the murderer. I just wanted to know how you came across the name.' James answered, pouting.

 

'It's fairly obvious if you think about it, but I won't bore you with the details.' Sirius replied, waving his hand to dismiss the topic of conversation that he clearly did not want to be having.

 

'Oh right, right. Okay.' James huffed, falling back against the sofa. He placed his arms around the back of his head and closed his eyes. 'It's fine, I know you're just pissed because he hasn't murdered anyone else anyway. I wouldn't expect you to be co-operative with me while you're throwing one of your tantrums.'

 

'I'm not throwing a tantrum! I'm just annoyed!' Sirius cried out defensively, pouting. James smiled, smugly. 'He's broken the pattern! He's not supposed to break the pattern! Something much bigger is coming; I'm sure of it! James! I have every reason to be annoyed - why are you laughing!'

 

'I'm not laughing.' James shook his head, giggling. 'It's just amusing to see you so worked up about one person.'

 

'I am NOT getting worked up!' Sirius shouted, petulantly. He rose from his chair – bottom lip trembling melodramatically. As he stood, however, a snowy owl flew into the room through the open window. It circled around their heads as it inspected them, before diving down to land on top of Sirius's head; sticking its leg out for the wizard to collect.

 

Sirius sighed at the owl and untied the envelope. The owl immediately flew off when the letter had been removed and Sirius sat back down again. During that process, James thought he heard him mumble something about 'Bloody bird' and 'Ruin my hair' but dismissed it with a shake of the head. When Sirius scanned the cursive of his name on the front of the envelope, he smirked in triumph; forgetting the state of his hair. 'Looks like someone's finally decided to contact us, Prongs.'

 

'Moony?!' James asked, astonished.

 

Sirius nodded and opened the envelope to read the message. First his eyes were exuberant and excited; then they morphed into a look of confusion (a rare occurrence upon his countenance); they then changed to one of distaste and determination.

 

When he finished, Sirius looked up at James with hard eyes, and handed the letter over wordlessly. The look on his face was of pure indignation and resentment.

 

 _What could Moony have possibly done to irk him so?_ The animagus thought to himself as he took the parchment and began to read,

 

_Dear Mr Black,_

_Please help me, for I do not have much time. I'm fighting the monster just to write this to you, and it is fatiguing me immensely, so I'll just get straight to the point._

_You're in danger. I'm trying to buy you time, but I don't know how long I can hold out for. You need to know, Mr Black, that Moony is coming for you. I started this letter by asking you to help me, but I realize now that if you do so it will be in vain. He is winning, and although he will keep me alive, I will be trapped. Do not try to save me, for you will never find me; Moony is more dangerous than I am worth the hassle for anyway._

_I simply write this to you as a warning, Mr Black. You need to be ready for when he comes – for he will most definitely be coming. I have heard him plotting; whispering. I do not think that he will hurt you, but he is unpredictable, so I cannot be definite._

_I know this though: you cannot run from Moony, he will find you – he always catches his prey. He killed Dolohov, Yaxley, Rabastan and so many others, and he is ready to kill again (he is growing restless) and Sirius, you need to understand that although all these Death Eaters deserved their fate, Moony did not murder them to rid the world of their evil – it's something else, but there is no time for explanations; you're clever enough to work it out anyway._

_Time is short, you must hurry. Quick, he's co-_

But then the scrawl changed.

**Isn't he cute? Trying to warn you of me as if it will save you. It's a fixation, really, he's always been like that – protecting us; isolating us to try and control me, even when we were children. Now though, he chooses to protect you alone – he risked a lot to write you this. He likes to think that it's his responsibility to keep you safe from me; I, personally, think it's merely an infatuation though.**

**All I ever hear him do is try and stop me when I talk about you anyway, it's actually pretty annoying, really.**

**He'll be punished though, he always is when he tries to stop me. He whines and plots to try and escape, or save you – he's quite clever for all his foolishness – like you, I think.**

**'He's coming. He's coming. He's coming out to play!'**

**Are you scared? Well, don't try running, Mr Black, for he's right, I'm on my way.**

**Messr Moony.**

 

When James finished the letter, he looked up at Sirius incredulously (the latter had now moved from his armchair and had positioned himself at the grand piano in the corner, flexing his bony fingers in preparation).

 

'James, get Lily and Harry out of the house. Take them some place where they will be safe for a while. I fear Moony will be here at any moment, and I will not allow our family to be placed in any sort of danger. Yes?' He then left no room for arguments (not that James had any) as he laid his long fingers upon the ivory and ebony keys and began to play the melancholic Chopin Preludes with practised beauty.

 

James nodded feverishly in response. He then got up off the sofa and scooped Harry up in his arms – the toddler had just entered the room eagerly after hearing the commencement of Sirius's playing – and whisked him off to the study, where Lily was currently carrying out potions research for the Order.

 

When James returned to the living room not long later, he was alone, and Sirius was still playing on the magnificent piano; currently on the 6th Prelude.

 

'They've gone to your brother's. I figured that it would be the safest place for them at the moment.' James thought to point out when his friend remained mute.

 

In response, Sirius merely nodded bitterly as he thought of his brother, Regulus Black, but it did not last long though, for suddenly his ears perked up, like a dog's would, and he faltered for a few seconds in his playing before he started again, this time with more vigour than before as his lips were tightly sealed together in anticipation.

 

'He's coming. He's coming. He's coming out to play...' He murmured, reciting the denouement of the letter as he hit the keys.

 

'What are you talking about, Siri-?'

 

But his sentence was interrupted by the eerie sound of the front door steadily creaking open.

 

Moony was upon them...


	5. The Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More murder, and a confrontation.

**Earlier**

 

'Tell me, Greyback: how does it feel? Pain? Upcoming death? The realization that you were a lowly piece of shit your entire life?' The man asked, as if indifferent to Fenrir's pain.

 

The werewolf merely spat into his attacker's face defiantly. Unfortunately, this only sufficed to provoke the man even further, for the action earned Greyback more silver to be applied to his re-opened scars that the man had taken the time to rip open with the torn out nails of Greyback's own hands, (yes, the man had forcibly removed every single sharp nail from the very root while he had gagged the werewolf with his own dirt-ridden socks – not that anyone would hear Greyback's screams in the secluded forest anyway).

 

The lycanthrope bit his lip until it was red and raw. He would not scream; he would not allow this filth to gain any sort of satisfaction from his pain, even as the liquefied metal poured through the cracks in his flesh and into his veins.

 

'Does it hurt, Greyback?' The man asked this time, mouth curled in disdain as he looked at Greyback, as if he were the unwanted gum on the back of one's heels.

 

Suppressing the pain, Greyback stared into the man's eyes curiously. Even if the man had bothered to wear a mask to hide who he truly was, Greyback would still have recognised those emeralds anywhere. He used to see them every night in his most wonderful dreams. Those childish, innocent eyes, welled up with tears of pain as Greyback had bit into him again, and again.

 

_And again, and again, and again..._

 

Oh, how the werewolf had relished in the child's inhuman screams that had followed as he had infected him; soiled him. He remembered from all those years ago, that the dawn after that transformation had been ecstasy for him, for he knew then that he had destroyed that child's purity. Shaped its life; changed it; embittered it.

 

Even now, as his very creation extracted his revenge so vigorously through the physical torment of Greyback, himself – the creator – like Frankenstein and his monster, Greyback could not help but feel a sense of fulfilment with regard to his proudest masterpiece, although he could not take all the credit for how this one turned out.

 

The werewolf used his sharpened yellow teeth to chew away the socks that had confined his voice, and smiled up at his invention from where he was constrained to a heavy log pole, on the floor of the very forest that he had transformed in all those years ago when he had graced this child in front of him with his gift.

 

'If you think this is pain, then you're softer than I thought. With this belief, I am destined to be ashamed of you; disgraced, even.' He snarled provocatively.

 

'You think this is the worst of it?' He man replied, monotonously. Nonchalant to Greyback's intended insults, he looked around the abandoned forest as if bored. Even while aggravated by this blasé approach towards himself, Greyback had to admit that he kind of liked that attitude. 'If that is your belief, then I pity you deeply.'

 

He then paused to brood, 'Did you know, Greyback, that to receive pity is often regarded as man's worst hatred; it lowers one's egotism and level of self-worth, as pity is the reaction of others to the exposure of one's own weakness; one's emotion. How very human we must be, Fenrir, if I have the ability to express pity upon you when I gaze upon your mutilated and mangled countenance in disgust.'

 

'To call ourselves human is a lie, Son, but to compare ourselves to a human – as if equals – is foolish.' Greyback growled at being referred to like that. 'With _humans_ , there is sentimentality and mercy – characteristics that do not survive long in this dark world – we are above such filth.'

 

'Now, you see, there are two things you need to understand, Greyback. One: I am not, nor will I ever be your son, and two: pity and mercy are two very different things. I think it's time you learnt the difference.'

 

To execute his point, the man tipped the metal jug he was holding in his heavily gloved hands with gentle precision. This action caused molten silver to pour from the said jug and into one of Greyback's hypnotic and feral blue eyes. Despite his high threshold to pain, the werewolf could not control himself any longer and howled as the liquid burned right through his left eye socket until it solidified upon the surface of his cornea, causing his vision to blur and contain itself to that of his right eye only.

 

'How about that? That one sounded like it hurt...' The man questioned as his expression turned thoughtful. 'Yet it still doesn't seem compare to the pain that came with the fate that you had condemned my other half to all those years ago, does it? Do you remember his pain and suffering, Greyback? He remembers it well, along with so much more...'

 

'Oh yes, I remember it. Little, loopy Lupin... Oh, how _his_ blood pleasured me. Rich and young.' He replied, licking his lips dramatically, ignoring the silver tears that ran down his face from the pain.

 

'You stole his life that night.' The man accused spitefully. 'And in case you haven't already figured it out, I have come today to take back all those years you stole from him. I'll admit, though, that part of me is indebted to you, for without you, there would certainly be no me. I would thank you, but pride and loyalty are more important to me. That is why, instead, I am here for revenge.'

 

'And how do you plan on going about that, little Rem-'

 

'DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE, GREYBACK! Do NOT call me that! That is NOT my name!' The man cried, losing control for the first time and succumbing to anger. 'My method of payment for all those lost years you took will be carried out by my ceasing the rest of yours from ever happening!'

 

As an indication that the conversation was now over, the man forced open the werewolf's mouth and poured what was left of the silver down Greyback's throat. The man had used wandless magic to restrain his victim to the log, for he had had no need to use a wand when magic embraced his every move and existence; another trait the man possessed that made Greyback feel affection, albeit jealousy towards him for.

 

Moony truly was his supreme masterpiece.

 

Even as he gagged and burned while his blood pumped the deadly-hot silver around his body, Greyback's glare never left the man. He had felt no remorse for his actions all those years ago, and he felt none now. The werewolf was no fool, he knew he was going to die anyway. He was just contented that it was his creation that caused his downfall.

 

For with Fenrir's death, Moony would unknowingly take his place as the next infamous alpha of werewolves. Packs would eat out of the palm of his hand if he asked them to, without ever understanding why.

 

Inevitably however, he would be feared and loathed as Greyback had been, abhorred until the point of self-hatred and even death – whether the young lycanthrope liked it or not. Moony would bring about his own death eventually, Greyback knew this. Moony may be powerful, but even his most finest work was destined to have some sort of weakness.

 

And as his thoughts drifted from consciousness, the werewolf departed from this world with the thought of Moony on his mind, and how his creation would thrive in his passion for blood. And, with his final breath, Greyback would awaken in the afterlife (whatever that may be) where he knew that – someday – he would meet Moony again, as equals in their sins.

* * *

 

James' eyes widened as he held his breath in anticipation. The creaking of the door opening was then proceeded by the intruder shutting it again. His footsteps then fell gracefully upon the hallway floor, like a wolf stalking its prey.

 

James looked from the closed door of the living room to his companion, whose posture remained uncannily straight as he continued to play. He looked back at James momentarily to gesture him to come over. The latter carried out this request gladly and stood next to Sirius at the piano. He faced the living room door, as opposed to Sirius, who chose to have his back to the door as he continued to caress the ebony and ivory keys.

 

When the white door opened, the man stepped in noiselessly; the echoing of his heels on the wooden floor vanished as they hit the carpeted floor instead. Sirius hit an imperfect cadence and stopped.

 

'Most people knock, you know.' He remarked, still not facing the man.

 

'Well, Mr Black, I'm not what you'd class as _most people_ , am I?' The man responded in a crisp tenor voice.

 

'No, I suppose not.' He answered, lip twitching without mirth.

 

Sirius then span around in his chair to gaze upon the speaker for the first time. He was an extremely tall and thin man, who was uncannily pale and ascetic-looking. He had light brown shaggy hair, flecked with premature greyness, that just brushed his rounded shoulders – probably made so from many years spent self studying. He wore a long coat enveloped in various patches that covered an Oxford t-shirt underneath a burgundy jumper, and black trousers. He gave off the impression of a young Professor. His shadowed eyes, however, resembled that of his wolf counterpart: alert, sharp and heedful. They were guarded with shining emeralds that made his dead eye stare most unsettling. Various scars were knitted upon every inch of visible flesh the man had exposed to them; the ones on his face in particular called upon most of their attention, for one scar appeared to have been made precariously close to the man's right eye.

 

'May I?' Moony asked, courteously, gesturing to the sofa.

 

'Of course.' Sirius responded monotonously, as the man sat down, facing the duo. 'You used the _front_ door this time, I noticed.' Sirius observed. The man smiled knowingly; it looked strange upon his hard face – it made him look deranged and threatening.

 

'Yes, well, I try to use variation, you see, Mr Black, for the world grows ever so tedious sometimes. Routine, I often find, can be the downfall of a man, and therefore, I never make the mistake of allowing someone to perceive how I operate. You understand, of course.'

 

It was not a question, but Sirius answered it anyway.

 

'Clearly.'

 

'Oh yes, of course, you're the ever omniscient Sirius Black, are you not?' He declared patronizingly, as if he was entertained by Sirius's mere presence. 'However, not that much so, it appears, for it is a dangerous habit to finger a wand in the pocket of one's robes.'

 

James snorted at that. Sirius, on the other hand, drew out his wand from his pocket and laid it on top of the piano. Moony smiled and blinked, but there was something about his eyes which made Sirius very glad he had it there.

 

'You, evidently, do not know me.' The man spoke when the silence grew tense. He drummed his fingers upon the arm of the sofa absent-mindedly. Sirius leaned forward, eyes piercing into the man, like a hawk.

 

'On the contrary.' He answered.

 

'Then I wonder if you would do me the honour of proving to me that you know me, Mr Black?' Moony questioned, amused.

 

'You want me to tell you what you already know?' Sirius asked in response, eyebrow raised. The man chuckled as his eyes looked to the ceiling.

 

'I suppose no harm can come from being reminded.' He answered in an epigrammatic tone. Sirius inhaled heavily, and began.

 

'You are Mssr Moony – or that is what you have christened yourself as, although I doubt that is your real name and I very much doubt that you are a man of God as well. You are a murderer. You just came from a murder now in fact. I suspect you killed a fellow werewolf this time by the use of silver – as shown through the residue silver which is apparent upon your sleeves, but not your hands (you took the precaution of wearing gloves which means you knew what substance you would be handling beforehand).

 

'The fact that you would deliberately seek to use silver as opposed to any other molten metal indicates that you were out especially for a werewolf this time – possibly someone of whom you had held a grudge against for a long time; most likely the werewolf that bit you. He would have had to have been both well-known and cunning if he managed to escape the bullet after infecting you. Also, he must have been particularly hard to trace if it took you this long to find him, therefore, he had a clean slate at the Ministry. As well as this, I must also point out that despite the fact you often use variation, Moony, you are so clearly out for Death Eaters blood specifically – narrowing down the list more so for me. Conclusion, I'd probably say you just came from killing Fenrir Greyback.'

 

'Very good... Very good, Mr Black...' Moony praised with a grin.

 

'Anyway, besides that, lets talk about your past. Your childhood consisted of you being suppressed from any sort of social interaction. This isolation was most likely caused by your brother (possibly twin), who tried to protect you and others from yourself and your _affliction._ He is currently punishing for this however, for the monster – you – did not want to be caged and have overpowered him in spite of all that he had oppressed you from. Also, you are right handed, as opposed to your said brother, clearly shown through the slant in your writing and the fact that your brother, inevitably, made numerous smudge marks on the page from where his nervously sweating hands caressed the paper (an occupational hazard of being left handed) whereas you have made none... Should I continue?'

 

Moony smiled a knowing smile – as if having some sort of inside joke with himself – and shook his head.

 

'No need, Sirius.' He replied, disregarding his usual formalities and using Sirius's first name instead. 'And brother... well, I suppose you could say that... as for twins? Everyone seems to think so... But no. Remus is almost five years my senior it seems... Officially anyway.' He further analysed, mysteriously, as his eyes lowered from the ceiling to meet Sirius's stormy grey ones. 'Anyway, I suppose you want to know why I've come here today?'

 

'Well,' Sirius began, 'James and I are willing to spare you five minutes if you have anything worthwhile to say to us.'

 

'Anything that I have to say has already crossed your mind, Mr Black.'

 

'Then possibly my answer has already crossed yours.'

 

'I'm sorry. Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?' James spoke exasperatedly for the first time, quite at a loss.

 

Moony smiled at him.

 

'Do you want to tell him, or shall I?' He asked Sirius.

 

'Moony wants me to reconsider my choice to expose him, James.' Sirius explained. 'Obviously, there have been numerous incidents of whom Moony has been the culprit, but none of them have thus far exposed him to the Ministry. Now though, things have changed. Now, there are more new players in our little game; for we're playing a game, Moony and me. We have – what Moony has labelled as – a connection.'

 

'You see, Mr Potter,' Moony continued, 'Sirius and I live in a world populated by ordinary people; boring people. And because we're different, Sirius used to like to keep me as his little secret so he could solve my many little puzzles in peace; that's why he never told the Ministry of my location. He needed me, and I needed him. But all secrets come out in the end, don't they, Prongs?'

 

James was startled by how Moony had referred to him. How could he possibly have known of his nickname?

 

Moony sensed James' discomfort and continued, 'You're an animagus, aren't you? Padfoot is, I know. I observe, but unlike your companion, I do not reveal how I came about making my deductions, for explaining the nature of my talents can lead to arrogance, and arrogance can encourage overconfidence; a trait that can be dangerous for most.'

 

He looked pointedly at Sirius, who stared right back, unflinching. 'Sirius does not want me to be kept a secret anymore though, he has grown tired of playing games, but he doesn't understand. He still needs me, for without me, he is nothing.'

 

'You are evolving; changing, Mssr Moony. I now have no choice but to stop you. I have no wish to hide a murderer who kills simply because he has the urge to gain power.' Sirius broke in, venomously.

 

The lycanthrope's Mona-Lisa smile dropped, and his lip curled, as if disgusted with what the Auror had just said.

 

'I do not kill for power, Sirius. I kill simply because some people just deserve to die.'

 

'It is not up to you to choose who lives and who dies, Moony. You need help; you need to be contained.' James broke in.

 

The werewolf's smile returned.

 

'Yet, here I am: free and capable. I promise you, I do not murder in cold blood, despite what Remus might have informed you so thusly in his letter. He has control in that aspect of how I operate, you see. He was the one that made me realize that Dolohov, Yaxley and Rabastan were not good people. The thing you need to understand about Remus is that he always liked to pretend – even when we were kids; pretend that he was not like me, but he is a fool, for Remus was the one that taught me that the bad people are the ones that deserve to be punished the most. His existence is the reason I only kill those who deserve it. He's quite the liability, actually - it's infuriating.

 

'Do you think me a monster, Mr Potter?' Moony then asked, when James looked at him in repulsion. 'Sirius puts on a convincing façade of disgust, but I know his eyes tell a different story.'

 

'I think it is wrong to create excuses for committing murder, Sir.' James replied harshly, glancing quickly at Sirius – whose eyes had not left Moony since the start of the conversation.

 

'You think I make excuses?' Moony questioned defensively, as if insulted. 'I seldom lie, nor do I exaggerate the truth to justify my actions, Mr Potter.'

 

'So why did you kill Dolohov and the others then?' James asked.

 

'Well, you see, I already told you, Mr Potter, but did you listen? Clearly not.' Moony then stood from the sofa. Instinctively, James whipped out his wand from his back pocket and Sirius retrieved his from the piano. The werewolf merely raised a sardonic, albeit amused eyebrow and retrieved a piece of paper from his trouser pocket to scan before replacing it again with a sigh. 'I have done what I could. I have asked you to stop, but I fear you will not. I will be a pity destroying you, Sirius. A real shame; a waste even.'

 

'I cannot let you continue, Mssr Moony. You will not destroy me before I have at least destroyed you.'

 

'I can promise you one, but not the other, for if you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you.'

 

Sirius also stood at this point.

 

'I can promise you that I look forward to it.' He remarked. Moony smirked and turned, his rounded shoulders facing the duo, as he left through the door that he had originally entered.

 

Sirius called back, 'Could you also reassure your brother for me that despite what he may think, I will save him from you.' Moony's head reappeared to gaze upon Sirius superciliously.

 

'No you won't, Sirius.' He replied, lazily. 'For if you want to kill me, you will kill Remus too.'

 

On that last remark, the head disappeared and was followed by the sound of the front door closing.

 

'What the bloody hell was that all about?!' James cried, looking at his companion incredulously. Sirius sat down again and held his face in his hands. 'You mean to tell me that all this time – maybe even before all this started – you've just let Moony get away with committing various crimes and murdering innocent people, just because you needed the satisfaction of a case.'

 

'Moony does not kill innocent people, James! Haven't you listened at all!' Sirius bit back impatiently. 'All this time, despite what Moony might think my reasons were, I chose not expose him because he was getting rid of the common enemy for us. This Remus must have influenced him subconsciously somehow and lead Moony to take his urges out upon the Death Eaters alone. We should be thankful for this, Prongs. I do not believe that Remus is a bad person.' Sirius explained, sound muffled by his palms. 'Don't look at me like that, Jamesie, it's true.' he added, as he peered up at James from between his fingers.

 

'But why expose him now? You said things had changed; what's different?' James asked, intrigued. Sirius sighed and removed his hands from his face, looking at his friend intently.

 

'He's just killed Fenrir Greyback, Prongs. That means all the difference...'

 

When James continued to look confused, Sirius elaborated further. 'Greyback meant a great deal to Lord Voldemort. I don't know if you've noticed, James, but Voldemort has been recruiting dark creatures as well as Pure-bloods – or trying to anyway. Greyback controlled an entire network of different Dark creatures when he was alive. He was their leader. He protected them; influenced them, and then used that power to sell them to Voldemort.'

 

He sighed. 'The thing you need to understand about a network like this, Jamesie, is that it is kill or be killed. Whoever kills the alpha automatically takes their place. No way out... besides death, that is.' James' eyes widened.

 

'Moony killed Greyback...' He stated. 'So that means-'

 

'By killing Greyback, Moony just unknowingly became the Spider at the centre of a colossal web; Greyback's web of Dark creatures (werewolves) – where it is essential that he knows how each thread dances. When I said that there would now be more players in our game, Moony didn't realize the deeper meaning behind my words, I could tell. Moony isn't aware that he now has an entire army within his control. Not yet anyway... and think of what he could do with that army when he does realize. Werewolves are easily manipulated, James. Moony only intended to kill Greyback because of what he did to him when he was younger, he was not aware of the consequences that came with it. Because of this ignorance, Moony does not realize that that is the reason why I now want to out him to the Ministry – he just believes that I've grown soft.'

'So the reason you've decided to expose him now isn't because he's murdered people, but because he now has minions to do the work for him...' James stated, eyebrows knitted together in comprehension.

 

'In a way, yes, but there is so much more to it, Jamesie. Moony is dangerous, and he needs to be stopped before he realizes his dominance and uses that power for all the wrong reasons-'

 

'Right... But you're also going to stop him because he's murdered people, right?'

 

Sirius looked at James, befuddled.

 

'Why should that matt- oh... Of course... Murder... Not good...'

 

'Yes, Padfoot. Murder isn't good. Well done.' James replied, as if talking to a child.

 

'Yes...' Sirius coughed awkwardly. 'Anyway, the point is: Moony would be unstoppable. That amount of power could make him a Napoleon of crime... And what if one day Remus's influence simply isn't enough to restrain him? What if one day the Death Eaters were simply not enough for him and he turns on innocent people instead? That is what worries me the most, Prongs... besides his constant need to kill, obviously.' He added as an afterthought when James gave him the You're-starting-to-sound-like-a-psychopath look.

 

'How worried should we be, Sirius?' James asked, disregarding his friend's usual complete lack of priorities.

 

'I don't know, but we shouldn't underestimate him, James. Should we do so, and that will be our downfall.' Sirius replied honestly.

 

He then walked towards the window and peered into the street anxiously, contemplating something. 'We'll go visit my brother tomorrow to bring Lily and Harry back.'

 

'And then what, Padfoot?' James asked. Sirius smiled, but it was without mirth.

 

'I figure that it is essential that we find Remus. Find him, then we may find the answers we're looking for.'

 

'How do you plan on going about that?'

 

Sirius remained still for some moments, before turning his head to face James.

 

'Dumbledore.'


	6. The Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is a Vulcan, James doesn't understand and Remus is as mysterious as ever.

**21st December – 15:00**

 

The headmaster was seated behind his desk, enjoying a delicious chocolate frog, while he re-read his plans on how to destroy Voldemort fully and win the war that was constantly raging on around him. Thus far, he had concluded that the dark wizard was looking for ways to avoid death, for death was Voldemort's one true horror.

 

Dumbledore knew that to possess all three of the Hallows could be one way of achieving this goal - by making one a Master of Death - but as two of the Hallows were currently in the headmaster's own possession, and one of the others in Dr James Potter's, that scenario was unlikely. Then there was the idea of the Philosopher's Stone, but Nicolas Flamel currently had that safe and secure...

 

Then there was the other way, Dumbledore had only ever heard of it in the darkest of legends... It was old magic; forbidden magic. Magic only Voldemort would be foolhardy enough to try and use. The word was Horcrux. The darkest of all the Dark arts. To split one's own soul apart through murder was the most despicable act.

 

But that was what made it purely Voldemort...

 

Dumbledore was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts by a loud knock upon his office door.

 

'Come in, Sirius; James.' He called out. The door opened, allowing the duo to enter. 'Please have a seat, boys. I thought you might have come to see me at some point after Dolohov's suspicious murder. Chocolate frog?' James shook his head and took the chair on the right, while Sirius took the left. The latter looked around the room, trying to put his thoughts into words.

 

'Ever heard of Fenrir Greyback, Sir?' He asked, finally. Dumbledore seemed taken aback by the question, but answered it none the less.

 

'He is Voldemort's werewolf, if I'm not mistaken, and I know that he is the most ruthless and most powerful dark creature of all time.'

 

Sirius nodded.

 

'Indeed... That is to say: he _was_ the most powerful, he has been murdered, you see. Yesterday evening actually. Moody's at the scene now.' Sirius elaborated. 'You know how the system works obviously.'

 

'The murderer takes the place of the former leader.' Dumbledore confirmed easily.

 

'Precisely! It might be important to point out that this new leader is the same werewolf that killed Dolohov and various other Death Eaters recently. I don't think he knows what power he holds yet, but I know it won't be long until he finds out, and when he does, I fear he will be in terrible danger of himself as well as others.'

 

'I see...' Dumbledore stated. 'Why the sudden interest though, Sirius? What possible significance does this new lycanthrope have compared to Greyback?'

 

'It might be important to point out, Sir, that it is unlikely that we will have to worry about Moony joining Voldemort – if we play our cards right, that is. However, with this power, Moony is a danger to himself as well as others. Place yourself in his shoes and think what having an army at your command would do to you. What would happen if one day that power became too much and destroyed him? Or made him even more despicable? This is the significance... among other things.'

 

'Why do you care about the welfare of a murderer though, Sirius?' Dumbledore questioned, curiously.

 

'I wondered the same, professor.' James imputed.

 

'Because I believe that there is something more to Mssr Moony than what meets the eye, Sir.' Sirius replied, expression strangely guarded.

 

'In other words: Sirius probably fancies him, or maybe fancies his brother, but his Vulcan brain cannot comprehend such emotions and is instead thinking up pathetic excuses to cover it up because Sirius Black simply cannot emote.' James translated.

 

'I really need to have words with Lily about what Muggle programmes you're allowed to watch.' Sirius muttered under his breath, huffing petulantly. Dumbledore smiled, but let the subject drop.

 

'I see... Sirius, when you came here today, what was it that you wanted to achieve?' He asked. 'How can I help you in all of this?'

 

Sirius perked up at that.

 

'I have a plan. I need information from Moony, but first I'm going to need the Order to help me capture him so that he can get the help that he needs.' Sirius answered.

 

'And The Order is to help how?'

 

'Well... Sir, I will need to borrow the Shack so that I can lure Moony to me. The location of the order will not be a problem – Moony trusts no one, and works alone... for now; and I'm pretty sure he already knows the location of headquarters anyway. When he comes though, be sure to have some people there to reprimand him. I do not want this situation to get out of hand.' When Dumbledore seemed hesitant, Sirius continued, 'Whatever you may think of him, Sir, _I_ believe that Moony is capable of change, and maybe... Maybe then, we can use his power over the packs to our advantage with regard to the _war_ , Sir?'

 

Sirius knew that anything that would help Dumbledore win the war would be intriguing for the old Headmaster. It was utter balderdash, what he was saying, of course. Sirius had many reasons for wanting to help Moony, but no, he did not believe _Moony_ was capable of change. Not at all.

 

The lie had its desired effect though, for Dumbledore proceeded to rest his chin on his palms in interest.

 

'I'm listening...'

* * *

 

**21st December 18:00**

 

'You know, I don't understand-'

 

'You say that a lot, you know.'

 

'Ha ha, very funny.' James responded dryly. 'I was actually going to say that I don't understand _you_. At all. I thought I did, but as usual, you've managed to completely prove me wrong. You talk all this crap about how love weakens us; how attraction and infatuation is a plague that stagnates defeat, and all that bollocks, but you can't comprehend that you're just like the rest of us, can you?'

 

'I am not like you!' Sirius responded harshly, sulking in his armchair in the Potters' living room. His lips had formed a pout and his arms were crossed petulantly.

 

'Aren't you?' James countered.

 

'NO!...' He shouted. 'I'm not?...' The second part sounded more of a question than he originally expected, causing him to look down in contemplation, chin resting on his chest.

 

'You're giving in to sentiment, Padfoot. You're completely contradicting your firm beliefs and yet you only chose to disregard them with this case – and for the sake of such an awful person at that! I realize now though, that for all his faults, Moony was right, you do need him... How human you must be, Sirius, to rely on such a vile creature, and have the ability to overlook said creature's flaws, all for the sake of thinking that it is capable of change.'

 

'I'm not. I don't know what you're talking about...' Sirius huffed.

 

'How can someone as brilliant as you not deduce that there must be some other reason that you've been treating this case differently from all the others? Tell me though, is it because he's your _intellectual equal_ or because you have a _connection_?'

 

'How would you know about my other cases, James? You weren't there.'

 

'You're right, I wasn't, but I know that you solved all the other cases perfectly.' James replied, earnestly. He was going to make Sirius see sense. 'The rate you're going with _this_ case though, surely, you must realize that if you carry on like you are now, it is obviously destined to end badly.'

 

'You don't know what you're talking about, James!' Sirius argued, harshly, before turning in his armchair so that his back faced James' worried expression.

 

The latter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, covering his face. It was only when he felt soft hands on his knees that he looked up to find Harry peeking up at him curiously with his innocent albeit curious emeralds.

 

'Daddy, okay?' He asked with concern. James smiled down at his son and ruffled his hair before he answered,

 

'Yeah, Harry. Uncle Padfoot's just being annoying, that's all.' His smile never faltered, even when he shot a quick glare at Sirius's back. Then, he noticed that Harry was holding something in his tiny little hand. 'What's that you've got there, love?' He asked, softly.

 

The one year old held his hand out to his father, who gently opened his fist. Settled, in the middle of his son's palm, was a glimmering Moonstone. 'Harry, honey, where did you get this?'

 

'Me, Minnie playing.' He shrugged. Minnie was the family cat (who may or may not have been named in honour of Hogwarts' most beloved teacher: Minerva McGonagall).

 

'I see...' James muttered. 'Can I keep it, Harry?'

 

'Yep. Present.'

 

'Thank you.' James then ruffled his son's hair one more time, causing Harry to squeal in amusement, before returning his attention to Sirius, who was still facing the other way – although his back had tensed quite visibly during the conversation.

 

He chuckled without humour. 'Oh, Padfoot. You better snap out of it or else.' He lectured. His voice only remained low and calm for Harry's sake. 'You owe this to Harry to keep him safe.' When his friend made no sign of replying, he continued, 'Remember, Sirius: when Harry was born, you made him a promise. Don't break it now for the sake of a heartless monster...'

 

Sirius turned his head around to face James and looked at him in contempt.

 

'You think I have forgotten? When I made that promise, I intended to keep it and still do now. Don't underrate how much I care about Harry, James. I may not be handling this situation well – from your perspective, that is, for despite what everyone may think, I do know what I'm doing – but know this: whatever happens, I will never let Harry come to any harm; on my life, I will protect him just as much as you and Lily would. Am I understood?'

 

James looked at Sirius staggered. Whatever response he was expecting, it was not that. Not only did Sirius just admit to actually caring about another person verbally, but he also expressed how he would willingly give his life up for the protection of the one child that James loved more than anything else in the world. Suddenly, he felt a whole new kind of reverence for his friend, although he felt ashamed, for this revelation should not have come as such a shock for him – Sirius had always been loyally protective of those he cared about.

 

'Yes, Padfoot. I believe you. I'm sorry.'

 

'Good.' Sirius grumbled.

 

It was the last thing James heard the Consulting Auror say for the rest of the day... for despite the extensive age gap, Sirius's tantrums could match that of his Godson's any day.

* * *

 

**23th December 1981 – 21:00**

 

The Order of The Phoenix headquarters was located on the outskirts of the quaint little village of Hogsmeade. It was built in the 1970's as a secure safe house for the Order members and Dumbledore had often used it for arranging and executing meetings for members of the aforementioned. The location was often referred to by the locals, indifferent to the conspiring uses of the house, as "The Shrieking Shack".

 

The house had been nicknamed as much because the old Headmaster had placed a set of charms upon the house when it had first been constructed; one of which was a spell that caused any outsider to be repelled by the house – this was made possible by the house producing incessant screams of what sounded eerily like wailing spirits whenever anyone came within close proximity of it.

 

And so here was where Sirius waited. The Shack had a total of five rooms: two safe bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room and a dining room. The Auror was currently waiting in one of the bedrooms. He was lying upon the bed decorated in purple, smoking his first cigarette since Harry had been born. He closed his eyes tranquilly as he inhaled the addictive tar that he had missed for so long. He knew James and Lily would be having a fit if they saw him now, but Sirius was far too entranced to care.

 

Difficult times called for desperate measures of relief, was his argument.

 

When he heard delicate footsteps sound upon the rickety, wooden staircase, his eyes opened lazily, watching as a shadow silhouetted upon the open door.

 

'Those things will kill you, you know.' The shadow spoke, smoothly.

 

'And here I was thinking that the title of "bringer of Sirius Black's death" was reserved for you.' Sirius replied easily.

 

'I do not wish to kill you, Sirius, but you always have to make things so difficult.' Moony stated, tiredly, as he came into view. He leant his head against the door frame as Sirius opened his eyes fully, to observe the man, intrigued. He took one last drag and used the bedpost to put out the cigarette.

 

'Yet so far, you haven't made one single attempt to kill me.' He stated bluntly.

 

'Timing is an impeccable asset in my work, Sirius. As well as that, I think we are still hoping that you'll stop prying into my affairs. I know Remus is worried for you.' He laughed, cruelly. 'Poor _brother..._ If only you knew...'

 

He coughed abruptly, as if stopping himself from spilling something private – the action intensified Sirius's curiosity and interest immensely. _'_ Anyway Padfoot, what I mean to say is: this situation was fun before, but now it has grown serious. I need you to not get involved, or else the consequences will be severe.'

 

'You know why I summoned you here, I take it?' Sirius asked, choosing not to acknowledge Moony's previous words, although internally, he was very much perturbed by their meaning.

 

'Oh, you mean from your little note you sent me?' Moony dipped a thin, scarred hand deep within his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Clearing his throat dramatically, he read, ' _"Moony. I must_ wail _for your presence, as it is required immediately. I'd give you the address, but if you are as much like me as you say you are, I am sure you'll figure it out for yourself as to where I want to meet you. Sirius."_ Seems very nebulous, Sirius, but yet I seem to have made it. It was rather obvious. As for your original question, I'm pretty sure that you asked me here so that you and your little friends could capture me and try to _cure_ me.'

 

'Why would you think I'd want to capture you? What makes you think I believe there is a cure for a creature as repellent as you?'

 

'You don't like to admit it, but I'm afraid you are letting your sentimentality get in the way of your quest for justice, Pads.' Sirius's lip curled as Moony repeated parts of James' words back to him. 'You believe that I can be cured because you honestly don't want me dead.'

 

Satisfied with Sirius's lack of response, Moony continued. 'Like I've said before: without me, you're nothing. Also, with regard to your letter, it is with regret that I have to say that it was petty. You think I'd fall for something like that?' he further inquired. 'I knew this was a trap from the start, Sirius. You know, you call me your intellectual equal; would you have fallen for something as mediocre as that?'

 

Sirius smiled, knowingly.

 

'No, I suppose not, but yet here you are. As I keep reminding you, I know you better than you think, Moony. I knew that, even though you would know it were a trap, you wouldn't be able to resist coming anyway. I know that – had our places been reversed – I would have come, merely due to the fact that I hate to leave a puzzle unfinished.'

 

'It would appear so, wouldn't it?' Moony sighed, dramatically, puffing out his cheeks. 'So, what's going to happen to me now then?'

 

'You're going to be taken to my brother's. You know what his occupation is, of course.'

 

'Naturally.'

 

'Yes, well, I will place you in his hands, I trust he can _cure_ you, as you entitle it.' Sirius explained, stonily.

 

'You are a fool if you think that Moony can be cured, Sirius.' He replied, coolly. Then, much to the animagus's horror, Moony threw his head back and laughed dryly, although there was a touch of lunacy in there too. Sirius's lip curled again in repugnance and he swung his legs over the bed and stood up. He then walked over to Moony, who had, at this point, stopped laughing and was matching Sirius's piercing glare, unflinching.

 

'First mistake: you are wrong if you believe I think you capable of change. Two: before they take you, there is some information I wish to extract from you.' Sirius muttered, face less than a metre away from the lycanthrope's. Moony scoffed before chuckling.

 

'I should've known.' He whispered bitterly, before bobbing his head around mockingly and droning out, 'Remussss.'

 

It was not a question; he was stating a fact. Sirius visibly recoiled, but did not deny it. 'Of course, the answer to your question is so blatantly obvious, Sirius. Surely you must have figured it out by now? I have given you enough information, but it seems that you – much like dear, old Prongs – did not listen.' All mirth had now vanished from Moony's face as he looked with those hard eyes at Sirius, as if searching for something.

 

The latter stepped back as a loud CRACK sounded from the bottom floor of the house. 'Here they come to take me away. They want me to talk? I have nothing to say.' The werewolf mumbled, eyes never leaving Sirius. Even as five wizards burst in through the door, his face remained impassive.

 

It was only when all five Order members had stunned him simultaneously that Moony's eyelids fluttered closed and – with a contented smile – he collapsed upon the bedroom floor. Sirius watched with wide eyes, startled by the encounter. While they were levitating the lycanthrope out of the room, James came rushing in towards Sirius.

 

'I can't believe it! That actually worked? That was the most pathetic way to deceive someone into being lead into a trap in the whole of history, yet it worked! What the hell happened?'

 

It was only then that Sirius looked up from the spot where Moony had collapsed, and finally acknowledged the fact that James was actually there with him. He seemed surprised at first to see his best friend in the same room as him, but then quickly shook his head to bring himself back to reality.

 

'It was weird, Jamesie.' He finally croaked. 'Like, really weird.' James looked at him worriedly.

 

'What was weird?' He asked.

 

'Moony knew the consequences of coming; he didn't fall for it for a second, yet he came anyway. Moony knew that wizards had come to apprehend him, yet he did nothing to stop them. Moony didn't put up a fight; he went willingly... I-' Sirius gulped. 'I – I don't-' He tried again, but to no avail.

 

_Why are those three words so difficult to say?_

 

'You don't know?' James finished for him. When Sirius could only mutely nod as if he was going to be sick, he chortled. 'Oh Merlin! That's something you don't experience everyday...'

 

'Shut up, Prongs!' Sirius spat, annoyed. 'This isn't funny. Moony's being weird... well... weirder than usual. I _don't know_ what he's planning or what he wants. It's worrying...'

 

He looked so forlorn at this tiny confession that James' laughter stopped abruptly and instead, he placed a reassuring hand upon his friend's shoulder in comfort.

 

'Is there anything you _have_ found out?' He asked, hoping that he might distract him from his knowledge (or lack thereof).

 

'Yes.' Sirius replied. James sighed in relief, but the animagus didn't notice. 'He knows. Moony knows about the packs.'

 

'How do you know?' James asked, intrigued. Sirius hesitated, attempting to – like Moony – repress his boasting of how he made his deductions.

 

He lasted a total of 3.5 seconds...

 

'The fur on the lining of his coat. There were many ranges of colour. Considering the fact that Moony's hair is of a light brown/grey complexion and is curly, and the fact that there were several different sizes and colours of hair on his clothing, suggests that Moony has been in the presence of others recently. Now, considering the fact that we know Moony to be as much of a misanthrope as I am and is loathed by society for what he is, could suggest that he paid a visit to the people that he'd feel the least uncomfortable around (people that plainly moult but never seem to lose any volume to their hair). Namely, werewolves. Considering the fact that there was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes when he first walked in here implies that he recently came across some sort of revelation. There were also hints in the things he said. I could go on but I realize I'm becoming tedious.'

 

'No, don't stop! Carry on.' James pleaded, shocked at Sirius's lack of "I'm smug prick and I know everything" attitude. Sirius smiled at how eager his friend was.

 

'Come on, James, what good would it do?' He replied. Before his friend could contradict him, however, the animagus brushed the steady hand from his shoulder and walked towards the door. The house was quite silent now, for the Order had now apparated away with the restrained lycanthrope.

 

Sirius placed a hand on the door frame and bowed his head, apparently deciding whether or not he should say what he said next. To James, he looked like an emotional wreck, but it was all part of a façade; Sirius needed to protect James, and so had to fake his hopeless demeanour to deceive his best friend, as well as everyone else - Moony included.

 

'I'm placing my trust in Regulus to sort this out. Usually, the idea of requiring the help of my little brother is repellent to me, but I think – this time – he may just sort this out. He's not as involved as I am and therefore, by allowing him to take Moony, I am taking a step back from this case... for the sake of my family. I informed Reg of the details, and what needs to be achieved, so I know he will handle it well.'

 

James crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at his friend.

 

'You make excuses, Sirius. You would protect my family anyway, regardless of how dangerous a case proves to be. You never simply "give up" because of the chance of there being a danger. We both know what this is really about.' Sirius's lips were sealed in a thin line that could match McGonagall's.

 

James snorted. 'This Remus must be very special, if you're relying on your brother to find him.'

 

Sirius's head whipped up and looked at James with puzzled incredulity.

 

'Interesting...' He murmured. 'Interesting that you said Remus... instead of Moony...'

 

On on that note, he walked out, deep in thought; leaving James to stare at his back exasperatedly.


	7. The Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the mind of the brother; a background on another's; and there's a close shave for Sirius.  
> Meanwhile, it's New Year's eve, and peas will ensue.

_He runs through fields innocuously. It is his liberation; his escape. For in his dreams, he is in control; he regains the power that had been taken away from him not too long ago. He is able to run free – away from Moony. In this ecstasy, Moony can not reach him._

 

_C_ _annot hurt him._

 

_He runs until the roughened skin of the underside his feet bleed and crack – but it doesn't hurt him, or if it does, he does neither notice nor care._

 

_Because here, he is free._

 

_As he runs, he does not need to worry about the wolf overpowering him. He is alone in this world, but it is bliss. His sanctuary keeps the formidable Moony from coming to get him. Here: Moony is contained and unable to touch him. Moony never remains dormant though, so he makes the most of his time here before he is imprisoned once more._

 

_He runs until the sky goes dark and the night is upon him, and when the divine twilight illuminates the Earth and the glow of the full moon shines down upon the ground, he transforms into something he both loves and fears. The wolf that has always run alongside him now becomes him – except with this form, he does not feel the need to hurt; to kill._

 

_All this wolf feels is the need to be unconfined, and to simply run – with the wind flowing through his fur contently._

 

_Then, in a moment of realisation, he begs to a God he never believed in. He begs that maybe, just maybe, he could stay here – in this nameless paradise – just a little bit longer. Here, the only fear is the fear of waking up and being concealed again._

 

_Solitude over entrapment._

 

_The crash of thunder sounds and he howls up at the usually beautiful grey sky in terror. He used to love thunderstorms; now they are the symbol of his tormentor; his pain. The stars shine and sparkle in response. He likes the stars. The stars are his protection; his comfort during these storms of anger and dominance._

 

_He stops running now and places his hands (paws?) over his ears in an attempt to block out the roars of thunder. He does this because maybe, if he cannot hear those chilling sounds, radiating from the sky above him, then maybe it is not real, and maybe Moony is not actually vexed with him, and then, maybe, he could run again._

 

_There is a flash of light as lightning strikes, and he knows then that – despite the fact that this surreal world is his escape – he could never be so fortunate for it to hide him from reality forever. He loathes reality, for there is where the beast is unhinged. Reality gives Moony control. The fateful consequence he must now endure for his years of trying to cage Moony._

 

_White, sterile lights surround his vision as he slowly leaves his tranquil world. Shadows of Moony's doctors also emerge within his line of sight, and suddenly he feels the change; the blinding pain._

 

_They are injecting him. Hurting him. Weakening him._

 

_Reality truly is Remus's worst punishment._

 

* * *

 

**31th December 1981 – 19:45**

 

'More Mash, Sirius?' Lily offered, politely from the end of the table.

 

'No thank you, Lils. I'm afraid I filled up on that massive roast of yours.' Sirius replied from his seat next the Harry (the latter of whom was busy shoving many a pea up his nose, purely out of curious wonder of just how many he could fit up there, of course).

 

The Potters' had hosted a delightful evening dinner in celebration of New Years eve – they had invited Moody, Marline, Gideon, a very timid looking Order member named Peter Pettigrew, and the Longbottoms' (fellow co-workers of Lily's) – and Sirius (never one to enjoy any sort of social festival or occasion) was acting like Harry did when he was told that it was bath time.

 

In other words, he was being a moody, petulant toddler, who was pouting up a storm.

 

'Come on, Padfoot. You and I both know that you've hardly eaten anything. Lily went to all this trouble to prepare dinner, the least you can do is humour her (or I'll be the one to suffer). Cheer up a bit, mate.' James whispered as he leaned over from the seat on the other side of Harry.

 

'I am cheerful, Prongs.' Sirius mumbled, head cradled in his hand as he stared at Harry to avoid James' penetrating eyes.

 

'Oh yes, I can tell you're inordinately happy. From all that moping you've been doing, I can tell you, it is quite difficult to miss.' He declared, sarcastically. 'Even Harry's been behaving in a more mature manner than you, Padfoot.'

 

When he gestured towards his son, Sirius just smirked in reply. The bespectacled man, confused with the reaction, decided then to actually look towards his chosen example of matureness, only to find that his son's nose had enlarged itself to three times its original size.

 

Gasping a word one should not use in the presence of a toddler, James whispered very loudly and urgently, 'Harry! Get those peas out of your nose right now before your mother sees!' He nervously glanced down at the other end of the long dining table and at his wife (who was currently engaged in conversation with Marline McKinnon while serving potatoes to Frank Longbottom, indifferent to Harry's vegetable snorting). He turned back quickly in case Lily felt him staring at her, and found that Sirius was patting Harry on the head approvingly.

 

'Good boy, Harry, way to make your Godfather look responsible in the eyes of the guests and your father.' Sirius winked, while smirking at the infant. 'I promise to let you play with Padfoot later.'

 

'Yaay, Pa'foot!' Harry squealed, while he clapped his hands – accidentally smacking his father up the head.

 

'HARRY!'

 

'Accident!' The toddler defended quickly, looking at James with wide, frightened eyes.

 

'I know, love. I'm sorry for shouting.' James soothed ( _damn that adorable toddler and those lovable eyes_ ). 'Why don't you take those peas out from your nose and I'll let you play with Padfoot. Yeah?'

 

'Play, Padfoot!' Harry agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically. He then proceeded to sneeze out every last pea (one of which flew across the table and hit Moody hard on the cheek). Harry giggled as Sirius stood – happy to spend some quality time with his Godson – and lifted the aforementioned from his high chair. Because James and Lily were the only ones in the room that knew of his animagus counterpart, Sirius decided to carry Harry to their bedroom to play.

 

The pair's room was, by all standards, comical. A small, plain single bed was placed near the door, while Harry's jigsaw themed cot was adjacent to it; always in Sirius's line of vision. The entire room was filled with either toys or books (the books belonging to Sirius, as well as a couple of toys that he insists are Harry's) which were scattered all over the lush carpet. The room seemed to follow a particular theme of Quidditch, as the ceiling was painted to look like the sky, and the walls were decorated to resemble the actual Quidditch pitch, along with scoring hoops as well as spectator stands. Even the tiny golden snitch was painted somewhere around the room, although it was always on the move – courtesy of a charm Sirius had placed upon the artwork.

 

'Found it! Found it! Pa'foot! Hoop!' Harry pointed a pudgy finger towards one of the three hoops on his side of the room where the snitch was indeed located, just below the left one.

 

'Well done, Harry. Wow...' Sirius praised with genuine surprise at Harry's quick observation – his talent for observation was surprisingly higher than his father's – who was about as blind as a horny teenage boy.

 

Choosing not to point this out, Sirius added instead, 'I think we've found England's next great seeker!'

 

The animagus then carefully placed the grinning toddler on the floor, before he transformed into Padfoot – much to the delight of his Godson.

 

They played like that for a while: Harry riding on Sirius's back, followed by a game of tug of war, in which they used a roughened up toy snake (never a good animal for a Gryffindor to be within close proximity of); and many other games, until Harry finally fell asleep, stroking Padfoot's fur smoothly and contently.

 

'I didn't know you purred, Sirius.' The soft voice of Lily spoke from the door. Padfoot's content expression turned into one of introversion and mercurial temperament and he huffed in response. 'Hey, there's no need to take that tone with me, Mister. We all know why you're being such an arse; there's no need to take it out on James and I.'

 

Sirius transformed with great precision, so as to not startle Harry and looked at Lily intently.

 

'Enlighten me then.'

 

'Well, I gather that your moodiness might have something to do with the phone call James has just received. Guess who was calling.' When Sirius remained silent, she sighed and answered her own question. 'It was Regulus.'

 

Sirius's head focused more securely on Lily now.

 

'What about?' He questioned quickly.

 

'He didn't explain, but he wants you and James there now-'

 

But before she could even finish her sentence, Sirius had leapt up and sprinted out of the room, shouting James.

 

'Bloody Black.' She muttered, as his exuberance had succeeded in waking up a now very angry Harry – who promptly burst into tears while snot dribbled from his nose, along with what looked strangely like one of her peas from dinner.

 

 _Oh, those boys are going to have a lot to answer for,_ She thought, tiredly as she picked up her son.

 

* * *

 

**31st December – 7:00AM**

 

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a very mysterious place. When observing the premises from the outside, it would look as though it had experienced many a disaster during its time, and looked as if it was going to collapse at any moment. The brick work was chipping away and moss and ivory were growing up the side of the house riotously and the windows were boarded up securely with festering wood. No one would dare approach it though, for fear of who lived there.

 

Rumour had it that the man who lived in that house was an extremely mad and enigmatical man called Regulus Black. No one ever saw him leave the house, but they all knew he was there. Sometimes, locals would hear screams from inside the house, but they would dismiss it as either paranoia, or just the howling of the wind; these were dangerous times after all, and no one would dare play a hero, should anything edgy actually be going on within number 12.

 

The truth as to what was actually going on within Grimmauld Place could not be deciphered entirely through external appearance though.

 

This is because that from the inside, the house was very much habitable, albeit it appeared to be of proper Victorian ambience. The walls were tall, with chandeliers hanging from every hallway and ground floor ceiling. The mentioned ground floor consisted of a living and dining room, a large kitchen, a study, two bedrooms and a bathroom – the basic necessities of a house – while the other three floors were only composed of more bedrooms (around four per floor), which included a bathroom in each.

 

The reason for this odd arrangement was because Number 12 Grimmauld Place was no normal house. No, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was home to the Wizarding world's greatest psychiatric ward for the criminally insane as well as (more disturbingly) the convicted 'Mudbloods' and 'Blood Traitors' to wizarding kind, who deserved to be punished.

 

This unsettling objective was carried by one of the most powerful men in the country: Regulus Arcturus Black.

 

Regulus earned this power through perseverance and wit. He was, by all means, uncannily like his older brother, Sirius, in terms of intelligence and academic significance – except Regulus found no joy or thrill for detective work and would rather elect to use his talents for other, more appropriate areas of work instead. When he was sixteen, he joined Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters – mostly out of the increasing pressure from his family, who wanted him to join the greater cause. This pressure had stagnated mostly out of the family's shame for the older heir, who had chosen the 'wrong' path and defiled their unvarnished name with his unspeakable treachery. They wanted Regulus to become their example of a true Black – which Regulus gladly did, to spite his brother, and to gain the attention that he had been neglected from for so long by his family due to his brother's rebellious antics.

 

Matters aside, when Regulus was seventeen, the brewing war had become even more worrisome and traumatic, for Voldemort had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and had forcibly taken the position of Minister of Magic. Regulus, by this time, had grown to resent his family's beliefs and Voldemort's visions of a pure world; he realized that his brother, as usual, was right about everything. Regulus then realized that he wanted no part in the destruction of the 'Unworthy' of wizarding kind.

 

Regulus was smart though. He decided to, begrudgingly, swallow his pride, and consult and made amends with his brother, Sirius, who was willing to accept his apology. Together, they worked to keep Regulus's true self concealed from the Death Eaters. First, they used their family's importance, as well as Regulus's Death Eater position, to join the Ministry after he finished school.

 

Whilst there, Regulus worked his way up through many of the Departments very quickly, until he had been assigned as the youngest Head of the Department of Mysteries. During that time, he had indeed heard whispers, conspiracies, information and important secrets (it was he who had informed Dumbledore of the Horcruxes – for a price, of course, the headmaster of Hogwarts was no exception to fair deals, and Regulus had made sure that he would not fall prey to the man's fine art of manipulation).

 

Regulus, by this time, knew more than anyone, including Dumbledore and Voldemort themselves; he had so much power of influence that it began to grow dangerous for him. He knew too much, and he had too much control for one of his age.

 

And Voldemort was beginning to notice.

 

With the help of Sirius, Regulus learnt the art of Occlumency to protect his mind from invasion and convinced Voldemort of his loyalty to him when he was interrogated. The young Black also realized that, despite proving his loyalty, Voldemort would still be constantly suspicious of him if he chose to remain in such an important occupation at the Ministry, where the Dark Lord's secrets could be spilled easier (not that Regulus did not already know them all anyway).

 

So, leaving Voldemort indifferent to Regulus's knowledge of his weaknesses, he resigned his position and transferred to the Department of Magical Law, where he was placed in charge of criminals, Mudbloods and blood traitors alike. His official job was to extract information and confessions from people, (while secretly, he would try to help them through a sort of redemption – in the case of criminals – and ensure them that everything will be all right soon – in the case of Muggleborns).

 

With this new career and power, Regulus openly expressed his distaste for using Azkaban and suggested instead that the criminals be confined in an area unknown to the public; a place hidden in plain sight. This suggestion was answered through his mother's death, when Grimmauld Place was given to Sirius, who then happily gave it to Regulus for his work.

 

Thus brings us to Regulus's latest concern with regard to his newest and most problematic prisoner, who was causing the man deep distress.

 

This man he was treating was simply an enigma; a misfit. Yes, Patient 221 had been causing him and his team quite a problem. The man did not talk, eat, nor experience any sort of pain. When he slept was the only time he ever expressed any sort of emotion. While he slept, his body appeared to be fighting itself; as if the patient was two different people. It was not a side effect of lycanthropy, but simply a mutation, Regulus figures – for there is no other explanation for such a creation. Even when his team made to torture information out of him as to the whereabouts of his brother, he did not scream once. Instead he smiled, like an inanimate doll.

 

Things changed on New Years eve though, for that was the day that Moony finally communicated with them – to an extent. Regulus had opened the silver door of Moony's room to find him writing on the white walls, using his own blood as ink. Regulus quickly called for back up, and in seconds, Moony was sedated through the countless potions and needles that had to have been administered.

 

When Regulus inspected Moony, he found that the chains binding him to his room had been scratched and bitten into, despite the powerful strength of them. This fact worried Regulus immensely, for Moony was unpredictable, and his magic: uncontrollable. If he escaped, there would be a height of panic within the Ministry – not to mention the derailing of Regulus's reputation and loyalty to Voldemort at the same time, as there would have to be a full investigation of Grimmauld Place.

 

The young Black looked up at the walls of Moony's room, and took in the words that he had written upon them for the first time since the incident. From one quick glance, he stepped back in horror. Every wall was covered in deep scarlet, contrasting and standing out against the white washed room unsettlingly.

 

_SIRIUS. SIRIUS. SIRIUS. BRING ME BLACK. SIRIUS. SIRIUS. SIRIUS._

 

What little colour Regulus's face possessed drained from his cheeks as he swallowed thickly. Tearing his eyes from the disturbing walls, he looked down at the sedated man, who was breathing deeply on the floor.

 

'Leave us.' Regulus instructed the guards and medical team. They did not object and quickly fled from the room – they were all scared of the lycanthrope and the powerful Black to do anything but scuttle.

 

Regulus took out his wand and knelt down close to Moony. He whispered, 'Rennervate' and waited patiently as Moony came around. After a while though, Regulus frowned, for the atmosphere had suddenly changed.

 

Something was different.

 

Moony blinked a few times, like a child waking up from a long nap. There was an innocence in his face, along with an unexplainable amount of pain. Regulus watched as the werewolf's brilliant green eyes adjusted to the light – reminding himself of where he was. Those eyes looked around the room until they focused on Regulus entirely. Moony startled at the close proximity of the other man, but quickly came to terms with it.

 

Or so Regulus thought, for it came as a bit of a shock to him when Moony suddenly flung his arms out, trying to reach for the Black. Fortunately for Regulus, the chains that bound Moony prevented him from coming into actual contact with the wizard. Regulus shuffled back and was staring at the lycanthrope curiously. 'Do you know who I am?' The black haired man asked, when he regained his aloof demeanour.

 

Moony stopped struggling and bowed his head.

 

'The question is, Mr Black, do you know who _I_ am?' Moony replied, hiding his face behind small curls. He did not speak venomously, but questioningly – as if apprehensive.

 

'What do you mean, Moony?' Regulus wondered, an eyebrow raised in question.

 

'Mr Black, I am not Moony...' He explained in a strange voice; a pained voice. Finally, he looked up at the authoritative man with a damaged, omniscient stare and spoke,

 

'My name is Professor Remus John Lupin, and I need your help.'

 

* * *

 

**31st December – 23:30**

 

Sirius scrambled out of the door behind James – they had to be outside the Potters' wards before they were able to apparate to Regulus's. They crossed the street and cut through a narrow alley between houses. James was around five metres in front of his friend when he heard a sickening crack. He whipped around to find Sirius with his back to him. He was staring up at the roofs of the houses, frozen in place.

 

'What in Merlin's name is the matter, Black! We need to go!' James cried. Due to the heavily pouring rain, he could not see the stigma of Sirius's reluctance to follow until he had rushed back to his friend.

 

The sound of the crack had emitted from a brick falling from one of the roofs; it was mere centimetres away from Sirius's feet. James quickly realized the link between this incident and Sirius looking up in apprehension.

 

'This was no accident, James.' Sirius muttered as James looked up too from beside him, despite having numerous rain droplets blur his glasses. 'I saw a shadow. Someone dropped it deliberately.'

 

'Who?' James asked, eyebrows furrowed.

 

'Oh, no one we know. Amateur.' Sirius answered. He waved a carefree hand. 'I suspect that this was one of Moony's other various attempts to get rid of me. Clearly, he used one of his recently acquired werewolf henchmen.'

 

'Shouldn't you be worried then, Sirius?' James asked, ignorant to the meaning of Sirius's particular phrasing of how this was not the first time he had been attacked.

 

'Oh no.' He countered. 'Either this man has a very bad aim or he missed me deliberately. I'm sure I'll be fine, so long as the skill level of Moony's men remain this low.'

 

Sirius elected not to tell James of the several other instances which had occurred in which werewolves had spontaneously tried to attack him in the space of when Moony was locked up and now. The instance where a man had tried to attack him with a cosh down Knockturn alley, and the other where a taxi had nearly ploughed him down unexpectedly, seemed to be irrelevant information to tell James – it would only worry his friend anyway.

 

'Right...' James spoke, eyeing the dismantled brick that had been so close to killing his best friend with distaste.

 

'Oi, no need to frown, Jamesie!' Sirius punched him on the shoulder lightly. 'Don't brood, we have a werewolf to investigate!'

 

On that note, they set off once again, different thoughts plaguing their minds. James was thinking about recent events; silently fearing for his best friend's life – he frequently stole some apprehensive glances in Sirius's direction, the latter of whom acted nonchalant to this. Internally though, Sirius was, regrettably, feeling just as neurotic as his friend; he only kept up the charade for James' sake.

 

He had to, James may be his best friend, but this was something Sirius needed to fight for himself.


	8. The Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus speaks, James is a bit of an idiot, and Regulus is not happy.

'What's the news, Reg?' Sirius asked eagerly as his younger brother lead him up the all too familiar stairway of Number 12 – his previous perturbed disposition, stagnated from the latest attempted murder attack, dissipated.

 

'He's spoken to me.' Regulus replied stoically. To the duo's frustration, he did not elaborate further and instead changed the route of conversation. 'He's on the top floor; first door. Your old bedroom, dear brother.' He smiled, without mirth.

 

'What did he say?' James inquired, jogging to keep up with the two Blacks – for they did have a considerable advantage in terms of height. When no one answered, he questioned again, 'Moony. What did he say to you, Regulus?'

 

_'What are you talking about? Your name is Moony.'_

 

_'Yes, but Moony is Remus Lupin, Mr Black.'_

 

_'I have no taste for riddles. What could possibly make you think you can convince me that you are who you claim to be?'_

 

_'Because, Mr Black, I have proof...'_

 

'I think I'll leave our lycanthrope to explain matters.' Regulus answered nonchalantly, although he left no room for arguments.

 

He stopped in front of a glimmering silver door, before he took out his keys and turned the numerous locks. When he stood aside to allow Sirius to open the door, he put an arm out to prevent James from following suit. 'He asked to speak to Sirius, and to Sirius only, I'm afraid.'

 

'Bollocks. You either get us both of us, or none of us.' James growled.

 

'I'm sorry, Jamesie, but I think it probably would be better if you stayed out here this time.' Sirius pressed, resting a hand on his fiend's shoulder. The animagus sighed in defeat, but still shrugged the hand off in an agitated manner.

 

'Fine. Fine! I'll just wait here then, and you can just tell me everything that's happened when you come back out.'

 

'Naturally.' Sirius smiled and winked, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that informed James that that was exactly his intention. Feeling reassured, James nodded and stepped back, as did Regulus.

 

'Just so you're warned, Sirius.' He addressed, seriously, 'He's inordinately unstable.'

 

'Oh, I'm counting on it.' Sirius remarked. The Auror then smoothly opened the floor and stepped into the white room.

 

When he shut the door behind him, Sirius turned around to find cold emerald eyes piercing into him from the middle of the room. Moony was wrapped in a thick straight jacket and was restrained to the room by strong chains attached to the wall securely. The werewolf was sat cross legged on the floor as he stared up at Sirius, managing an almost triumphant smile.

 

'We meet again, Mr Black. I hoped you would come.' He spoke, hoarsely. 'But I must press that this will not be a pleasant encounter; my thoughts have been quite precarious since we were younger and I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you before it is too late.'

 

'I am all ears, Professor.' Sirius replied, crouching down beside the lycanthrope and speaking to him with uncharacteristic benevolence. 'But do not refer to me as though we are strangers, Remus; call me Sirius.'

 

'Finally, you have undoubtedly seen me for who I truly am then?' The man asked, an eyebrow jumping upwards. 'Moony and I seemed to be under the impression that you thought us brothers.'

 

'Indeed I have seen you as such, but my eyes were blinded by deliberate indifference. I can assure you now though that my eyes are clear: I have observed you.' Sirius replied, lips twitching ever so slightly.

 

'Yet you originally saw us as two different people.' Remus remarked, desolately. 'I'm surprised and maybe, slightly disappointed with you, Sirius, because you have been ignorant to the fact that Moony has been a part of me for so long - although despite what I say, I will not cognomen myself as the same person as Moony, he is abhorrent to me, as much as he is to you.'

 

'I promise you, I had other reasons for thinking of Moony as your brother - many things have been unclear to me since we were 16, and I berate myself for not deducing the facts sooner.' Sirius confessed.

 

'The truth will be revealed soon, so I shall leave this conversation for now then.' Moony expressed.

 

'If you say so. That aside, why did you ask to see me?' Sirius spoke, as he inspected the burgundy stains on the walls around them. Remus coughed to gather himself.

 

'Tell your brother his _treatments_ are not working.' The lycanthrope answered, swiftly.

 

'Tell him yourself.'

 

Remus laughed bitterly at the comment.

 

'He only listens to you – surely you have noticed.' He explained as though it were obvious. 'I just thought you should know - get it out of the way before I divulge into the real explanation. Thus follows: the real reason I asked you here was because I needed you to know who I am. When Moony is dominant, I'm still there within him. When he's in control, I hear him whispering - usually, it's only him I hear - but recently, I heard you. Ere, I would only listen to Moony's taunts, and boasts of who he had killed; you were the first hopeful voice I heard in that prison.' He smiled in a bitter-sweet manner, as Sirius absorbed the meaning of his words. 'How extraordinary you are, Sirius.' He remarked out loud. 'I heard you before; I can tell you all that you need to know. I knew you had been looking for me. So, here I am.'

 

A switch in Sirius's head flicked as he understood Remus's words. The werewolf had asked him here so he could help the Auror with whatever Sirius found him useful for.

 

'Tell me about Moony.' He asked, not giving in to the unexplainable sentiment and admiration that suddenly emerged within him.

 

'I will tell you of my past - before I met you - and I will tell you of my life after Moony's "birth".' Sirius agreed with a nod.

 

Remus sighed seriously. 'On the full moon of February the 16th 1965, Fenrir Greyback bit me. My father fought him off, but it was – obviously – too late. I was a werewolf. Disgusted, my father left my mother and I. We never saw him again. My mother: she was very weak and fragile. She grew ill from having to look after someone like me every month. All the while, I tried to teach myself how to control my magic and heighten my knowledge in general; I knew I would never be deemed normal or fit for wizarding school, so I poured my life into self study books so I could make up for that - those books you gave me also helped during my later years.' He looked up into Sirius's eyes but dropped the gaze quickly. 'When I was older and ready, when Moony was there, but dormant, I took an OWL and NEWT paper for Arithmancy under a false name and gained an Outstanding. I did the same for Muggle Mathematics and passed easily on that too.

 

'When I was eleven though, instead of receiving my Hogwarts letter, my mother unexpectedly died. They say it was the illness that killed her, but I do not believe that. I did believe, however, that from then on I was on my own. No school would accept me; not even Hogwarts. I travelled long and far, for far too long. I knew my mother's death was planned and I knew people would surely come for me too if I stayed... Then I found the packs, filled with people like me; monsters; misfits. When I realized that they could control me during full moons, I decided to live with them, for a bit – my transformations, in those days, were terrible, and I needed as much help as I could get.'

 

'And it was there that Voldemort finally caught up with you.' Sirius interrupted.

 

Remus nodded his confirmation.

 

'I knew him by another name at the time though.' the lycanthrope continued. 'Tom Riddle. He came to us and spoke to us. He offered us freedom and purpose – I was not fooled by him, obviously. Accompanying Riddle was the alpha werewolf: Fenrir Greyback. I did not know the name of the wolf that had bitten me at the time, but I felt a growing suspicion when I was in close proximity to Greyback – call it intuition, if you will. It was not until I was alone that he cornered me. I was repulsed by him. He attacked me and apprehended me before he brought me to Voldemort when the others had fallen asleep; I berate myself now, for I should have seen a trap like that coming - I had spent half my life constantly vigilant and paranoid, after all. I remember the fear I felt when Greyback informed Voldemort of who I was though; how _useful_ I would be.'

 

" _Take this one; he is the strongest of the lot. His name's Lupin. He'll be the perfect host, my Lord."_

 

Remus's lip curled rancorously. 'I was twelve when I was captured and prepared for my fate. The Death Eaters that guarded me, they would sometimes abuse their power over me, in the most aberrant of ways. Moony and I still have nightmares, and it enrages Moony to the point of insanity... Those years were among one of the darkest ones I had ever experienced, and considering how far I had sunk by that point and even now, I can not emphasise just the extent of how much abuse I had suffered before I met you.

 

'But when I finally did meet you, life grew to be just that little bit more bearable.' Remus smiled at him sadly. Sirius did not return it. 'When you found me, at first I was shocked and appalled - for I thought that you were one of Voldemort's followers. So young, you were but thirteen - I questioned just how young Voldemort's followers could be, but when you looked at me, eyes filled with fear and disgust at what you had just found, I knew you were different. But as much as you healed me with each visit, the Death Eaters broke me more.'

 

Sirius involuntarily growled at this unjust and inhumane treatment, but Remus's expression was reserved and unreadable, as if he did not care... or maybe, as if he thought he deserved it. Sirius felt an unfamiliar ache within his chest, and inquisitively, he rested his hand on the prickling spot. Eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement, he managed to clear his throat.

 

'Those Death Eaters that... that hurt you, they were the same ones that Moony-'

 

'Killed?' Remus finished for him. 'Yes. It's a thirst for revenge, I think, that caused him to kill Death Eaters. I think that is what Moony meant when he said I had, to an extent, a sort of control over him, for as much as I hate to admit it, I confess that I did wish all my attackers dead at some point. But Voldemort? Moony cannot harm Voldemort – for, despite Greyback taking all the credit for it, Voldemort is Moony's true creator.' Sirius looked at Remus dumbfounded.

 

'What do you mean creator?' Sirius asked, worry etched in his eyes (a rare sight for him to behold).

 

'They were preparing me, that is why they kidnapped me. I was _the perfect host_ for Voldemort to conduct his little experiment. But the experiment went wrong...'

 

Not able to finish his explanation, Remus suddenly doubled over in pain. He screamed out as tears emerged and streamed down his face freely. Sirius could only watch in horror as a deadening crack sounded, like the snapping of bones. At the sound, the wails resided and all went quiet. Cautiously, Sirius looked at the lycanthrope, who was curled up on his side on the floor, face hidden from view.

 

'Remus?'

 

No answer.

 

'Remus!' Sirius tried again. It took all his willpower not to touch the man to see if he was all right. He was glad he did not though, for suddenly, Remus's head shot up, glaring at Sirius in cruel amusement. The Auror knew then, that he had lost Remus. Those eyes were not kind; those eyes were not the ones that he craved to see on that face.

 

'Hello, Siri. Looking for my _brother_?' Moony mocked, spitefully. 'Remus isn't here anymore, I'm afraid. It's just you and me.' The deranged man cackled before he jumped up and ran at Sirius. He was mere inches away from the animagus when the chains pulled forcibly to restrain him. Sirius did not step back and nor did the werewolf. He breathed heavily, breath fanning Sirius's hair as his head moved from side to side, like a lizard would. 'Figured it out yet, Siri?' He wondered.

 

'Figured what out yet?' Sirius asked, feigning puzzlement.

 

'If I were to tell you that, then I would save you the hassle of doing it yourself.' Moony answered, clearly enjoying himself. 'The answers obvious though, isn't it, Padfoot? Remus told you, but did you listen?'

 

'Yes, I listened.' Sirius remarked, huffing.

 

'Then work it out.' Moony ordered, before suddenly throwing his head back and howling in a spine-chilling way. 'Do you feel pain, Sirius?' He cried between howls, 'I do, but I do not fear it; I embrace it!' He chuckled. When the incessant cries grew wilder and more feral, Regulus burst through the door with the potions team and ordered Sirius to leave immediately.

 

'What the hell have you done, Sirius?!' His brother yelled degenerately through the howling. 'Wait for me downstairs. Go. Now!'

 

Sirius – not usually one to abide to his brothers orders – backed out of the room, in astonishment at the escalated change in atmosphere around him, and bowed his head, conveying a sort of disheartening failure.

 

_So close..._

 

'Padfoot! What happened?' James asked, appearing beside his best friend. At first, Sirius did not seem to have heard him, as he merely stared at the now closed silver door in front of him, looking crestfallen. Before long though, he shook his head to release him from his stupor and turned to look at James, painted excitement evident on his face. James startled at the instantaneous change in his friend's demeanour, but did not voice his shock.

 

'This case just got even better, that's what happened!' Sirius cried, building a façade of confidence he, in reality, did not have, as he spoke. He then turned on the spot to hide his faltering smile, and marched down the stairs, lip twitching, leaving a very worried James to follow.

 

* * *

 

'What the hell did you do to him, Sirius?!' Regulus cried, shutting the dining room door behind him with particular malice. 'It took three doses of potion to sedate him! He was fine until you decided to talk to him!'

 

'It was you that wanted me brought here.'

 

'Sirius, you know what I mean! What happened in there-?'

 

'Your treatments aren't working, dear brother.' Sirius interrupted, looking up at Regulus from the leaf green chair that he was currently residing in. 'Therefore, I want you to stop using those potions on Moony. They do not work and they are hurting Remus.'

 

'Excuse me?' Regulus cried in bewilderment.

 

'You heard me.'

 

'I cannot believe you, Sirius!' Regulus exclaimed. 'Without those potions, we would never have gotten this Remus to reawaken.'

 

'What did he tell you, Reg?' Sirius inquired thoughtfully. Regulus opened his mouth to scold Sirius some more, but no sound came out; the question had clearly caught him off guard. Whatever words he planned to say before quickly changed to this,

 

'Just that he was one of Voldemort's experiments, and that it went wrong.' he shrugged while avoiding his brother's eyes. Sirius picked up on the gesture with impeccable speed.

 

'There's something you're not telling me.' He remarked, hurt at his brother's hesitance to trust him. When Regulus did not reply, he pressed more urgently, 'Regulus, how did the experiment go wrong?'

 

'You do not want to know, Siri.' He shook his head as he recollected the conversation. 'It would ruin you.' his voice spoke the later part in a whisper.

 

'How so?' Sirius asked, head tilted to one side.

 

'Remus told me about those lost years; about you. Sirius, you are too blinded by emotion.'

 

'I am not blinded by emotion, Regulus. You and James may think me soft and sentimental, but you are wrong. I know what I am doing, and I certainly don't need protecting. Tell. Me. How. It. Went. Wrong.'

 

Regulus sighed and ran a nervous hand through his usually pristine hair. With great courage, he proceeded to advise his brother,

 

'You need to solve this on your own, Siri. You came to me with the intention of handing this case over to me, but doing that is clearly not going to work. You are too involved to back out now and it needs to be you that fixes this, and you alone.'

 

'Where do I start?' Sirius asked, determined. Regulus had a pained expression upon his countenance as he battled with himself. Finally, the logical part triumphed over the secretive section.

 

'The soul is the most enigmatical part of life.' He commenced with, before pausing to think, as though debating over his choice of words.

 

He then sighed in resignation, and continued, 'One can exist without their soul, but can one ever live if they have two?'

 

* * *

 

_The halls are infinite. He sprints down them all, searching. Searching for something; anything, that can help him crack the Lupin puzzle. He looks to his right, but finds nothing. He looks to his left: more promising, but still there is nothing._

 

_He stops as he passes by the locked door:_ **My Enigma.**

 

_Sirius yells out in frustration, tipping his head back, towards the never-quite-there ceiling. He begrudgingly turns away from the door and runs on._

 

_'It has got to be around here somewhere!' He screams at the top of his lungs, before turning left._

 

_The Hall of the Dark Arts._

 

_'_ _A place. A place.' He runs past various doors, mumbling under his breath. 'Dark Creatures. Close. Werewolves: possibly. Closer... Go deeper, Black. Wait!' He comes to a sudden halt in front of the oldest and darkest door in his Palace. The door is covered in cliché spider webs and cracks. The dark brown wood rotting away freely, but never destroying completely. Sirius did not often venture to this room. He, like others, cared not for the extent of its contents._

 

**The Soul.**

 

_Reaching out a shaking hand, Sirius turns the silver knob and allows the door to creak open. The inside is pitch black and unearthly. Sirius inhales deeply - coughing as he breathes in a considerable amount of dust - and steps forward, past the threshold and into the abyss._

 

_Unlike the rest of his rooms, this one whispers to him. The voices are unhinging; maddening. Sirius rummages around in the dark for any source of light, quickly realizing and remembering that, yes: he is a wizard, and yes: he does not need a candle or torch for light._

 

_'Lumos.'_

 

_The room suddenly illuminates before him, exposing what looked like an old, abandoned library. Every shelf contains around three books. If there had ever been more books on the shelves, then they had obviously wondered off or be taken (by whom, Sirius does not want to find out)._

 

_He reaches for the book that interests him; an old, dusty book, with the edges crumpled and torn. Sirius flicks through its pages until he finds what he had come here for._

 

**The Secret of the Darkest Art.**

 

_He reads for a while, absorbing the contents, before placing the book back in its place neatly and cautiously. He then backs out of the room silently, wide eyed and pale as death; as if he had just experienced a dark revelation - in a way though, he had._

 

_For the truth was always there, he had just been too blind to see it._

 

* * *

 

**4th January 1982 – 23:00**

 

Lily knocked subtly on the door before entering the study with a tray of drinks and biscuits. Upon her entrance, she saw Sirius and James huddled together as they whispered urgently to each other. They appeared not to have noticed that there was now a third person in the room with them.

 

'James, please, you need to understand. I know what I'm doing. Trust me!' Sirius spoke quickly, as James looked at him in pity.

 

'You don't, Sirius. Unless you tell me what is really going on, I cannot trust you.'

 

Deciding to make her presence known, she set the tray down in front of them loudly.

 

'You don't understand, Prongs-'

 

'Hey, boys!' She greeted. Whatever Sirius was about to say died in his mouth right then. Instead, he placed on his face his most charming smile – although it did not reach his eyes.

 

'Hey, Lils. We didn't hear you come in.' He stated, eyes piercing into her, as if searching for some sort of hidden agenda. James continued to glare at his best friend, while Lily scoffed.

 

'Well, of course you didn't. You were too wrapped up in arguing about Moony to even notice that I knocked before I entered.' She remarked, amused. Sirius faltered slightly; even James forget to scowl at Sirius and looked up at his wife in questioning.

 

'How do you know about Moony?' He asked, disbelief written all over his face. Lily rolled her eyes, before she smirked, knowingly.

 

'Well, you two aren't exactly discreet. And after what happened on New Years Ev, I decided to investigate further.'

 

'You mean, eavesdrop on us.' Sirius corrected. Lily blushed.

 

'Not exactly, I just chose not to inform you of my presence, should you conspire while I was within earshot. I also read all your paperwork and letters from Dumbledore, Regulus and Moony while tidying, among other things...'

 

'You little minx!' Sirius roared, although there was an air of admiration in his voice.

 

'Don't take that tone with me, Black.' She scolded, lips twitching into a supressed, amused smile.

 

'Sorry... You sexy, conniving little minx!' He tried again, convinced he had chosen his words right. He was proven wrong, however, when,

 

'PADFOOT!' James screamed, voice going unusually high. 'That's my wife!'

 

'Well, I didn't know what else to say, did I?' Sirius defended. Lily only giggled. 'See, I flattered her with an appreciative adjective and now she's not angry anymore.'

 

'I wasn't angry in the first place, Sirius, that was you.' Lily pointed out.

 

'Oh...' Sirius looked towards the ceiling in contemplation. 'You're right, I was...'

 

After another pause, 'HOW DARE YOU, LILY! That stuff was top secret!'

 

'Not anymore, besides I might be able to help, you two don't seem to be doing so well on your own, now do you?'

 

'We are doing perfectly fine, thank you, Evans-'

 

'Potter.' James corrected, smugly, before he addressed the said Potter and continued, 'Actually, Lily, you might be able to help me talk some sense into him.'

 

'I am talking sense, James, you just don't want to believe it.' Sirius replied, icily. He turned to face Lily once more. 'Well, seen as you already know too much and I'm not allowed to kill you for that, you may as well have a seat. Maybe you'll understand better than your _charming_ husband.'

 

James narrowed his eyes and pulled a face; Lily just shrugged and pulled up a chair.

 

'Now, what's this all about?' The red head asked when she was seated, elbows rested on her knees and chin in her hands. Sirius sat up straight and glanced at James momentarily, in what looked strangely like disdain, before questioning Lily.

 

'What do you know so far?'

 

'That Moony is a murderer, the alpha werewolf, and that he also has something to do with a man called Remus.'

 

At this point, James reached out and took one of Lily's hands in his own.

 

'Remus is Moony, Lils.' He explained, carefully. The witch's eyebrows knitted together.

 

'Like a dual personality?' She asked.

 

James blinked in confusion, while Sirius looked to the ceiling, debating the accuracy of her theory.

 

Lily sighed in exasperation and explained to her clueless husband, 'It what muggles call it when someone experiences a neurosis in which their personality becomes dissociated into two or more distinct parts. Like, sometimes, one part becomes more dominant and controls that persons behaviour for a brief amount of time. Understand?'

 

James nodded once.

 

'I think so.' He turned to his best friend. 'You know, Sirius, that's a plausible explanation; it's more likely than your theory.' Sirius looked hurt at that.

 

'No, James. I'll admit Lily's theory is entirely plausible, but it's wrong, because mine is entirely correct.'

 

'And what is your theory, Mr Black?' Lily drawled out, rolling her eyes. Sirius huffed, indignantly and began to answer,

 

'You know that Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort's looking for ways to avert death?' Lily nodded, while James' lips were pressed together – he knew what was coming next. 'Well, he's right. My brother gave him some information which put him on the right track: Voldemort is splitting his soul so that he can become immortal. I didn't want to tell you before, but because it has something to do with this case I may as well inform you now: we've been hunting them; Dumbledore has already destroyed a ring, Regulus has dismantled a locket and I have destroyed his diary. We think there might be one more to demolish before Voldemort is mortal once again (unless he makes others before we get the chance). I think I have found the final one.'

 

'Which is?' She sounded apprehensive.

 

Sirius's eyes hardened and he gritted his teeth.

 

'It is my belief that Voldemort turned Remus into a Horcrux.' He stated, bluntly. James groaned in irritation; Lily placed a hand over her mouth and gasped.

 

'How is that even possible?!' She exclaimed.

 

'Because Voldemort chose a vulnerable child. One who had remarkable strength and stamina to endure hosting part of another soul within him.' Sirius spat. Lily had never seen him so vexed. 'But because of the wolf counterpart within him, the soul latched onto that, giving Moony a consistent personality – one that is constant as opposed to being oppressed until the full moon. Remus fought it for a long time, but the wolf was stronger. Voldemort's soul had given Moony its own mind; its own person. The Mssr Moony is a mixture of Voldemort and the wolf – with only part of Remus as influence.'

 

Sirius broke off, and silence filled the room. He looked down at his hands, which were placed together on his lap; his lip trembled ever so slightly. James' hands were balled into fists as he looked anywhere but at the other to people in the room. Lily thought that his petulance and refusal to acknowledge his fiend's theory was very immature, and stepped up to Sirius's defence.

 

'I believe you, Sirius, but what happens now then?' She asked, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. James' head span around so quickly that he heard a crack. Cursing while rubbing the back of his neck, he vociferated,

 

'Wait, you actually believe him?! Why?!'

 

'He hasn't given me any reason not to, James.' Lily replied, calmly, although her voice was cold. 'I don't understand why you're being so unreasonable about this-'

 

'It scares him, Lily.' Sirius interrupted. 'The thought of a person with two souls; a Horcrux; the consequences. It is this fear that is making him ignorant to it; he doesn't want it to be true.' When Lily continued to look befuddled, he elaborated, 'Dumbledore just flooed us; word has gotten out that you, James and Harry have been targeted by Voldemort.' Lily's eyes widened.

 

'W-Why?' She whispered.

 

'Because making a Horcrux requires murder, and what better a family for Voldemort to kill than one that lives to defy everything he believes in.' He explained. 'And if turning a human into a Horcrux worked once, what's to stop him doing it again... This time to an innocent toddler.'

 

There was a silence as his words dawned on Lily.

 

'Harry!...' She whispered, voice cracking.

 

Sirius nodded.

 

'This is ridiculous, James. How can you be so indifferent to this?' Lily cried, turning to her husband, who looked at her expressionless. 'Behaving like this isn't helping anyone!' When he gave no response, Lily sighed hopelessly and turned back to Sirius. 'How do we stop Voldemort before he comes?'

 

'Well, we don't know for sure when he's going to target you, but Dumbledore reckons we should put a Fidelius charm around your house; I'll be your secret keeper, obviously.' Sirius answered.

 

Lily nodded, satisfied. When the initial shock died down, she began to think about something else Sirius had informed them.

 

'Sirius, what's Remus got to do with all of this? Us?' The former looked up from his hands and met her lovely, green eyes. When she looked back, she observed a desolate look in those clouds of grey. It worried her.

 

'We... Voldemort has to... Moon-' He shook his head angrily when words failed him. His answer seemed to be causing him a great deal of pain, which was abnormal for someone as stoic as Sirius – it was melancholy for Lily to watch.

 

He inhaled deeply. 'Remus has to die.' Sirius finally breathed. 'If he dies, then the Horcrux does too.'

 

'Is it the only way?' Lily asked, solemnly.

 

'Of course it is, Lily! If there was any other way, I would have said that instead, wouldn't I?!' Sirius barked. When Lily looked at him, hurt, he spoke again, this time his voice was soft. 'I'm sorry, Lils. No, there isn't another way.'

 

'It's all right to be angry, Sirius, but don't be angry at the people who love you; we're trying to help.' Lily soothed. Sirius flinched away as if burned. He hated sentiment, so why is it a constant in his mood all of a sudden?

 

_'Liberation in death.'_ He whispered to himself instead. When James looked at him for the first time since the conversation had begun, Sirius looked back down at his hands, meeting James' worried glance for only a moment. 'I should probably tell you now that I have met Remus before-'

 

'WHAT?!' James exclaimed.

 

'It was long ago. I promised him that I would help him. All he wanted was a normal life.' He explained in a reminiscent way, ignoring James' tone. 'He told me he would rather die than live like he was... is. I promised him liberation, but now there is only death.'

 

'Oh Sirius, I'm so sorry.' If the animagus was shocked that it was James that had spoken as opposed to Lily, he did not expose it. It was only when James strode over to envelope him in a hug that Sirius exhaled shakily - in the emotion he was most accustomed to: anger. Sensing this behaviour, James continued, 'I've been a prick; a total prick. I'm sorry, Siri. I don't know what came over me, Padfoot. We'll find another way though, I promise.'

 

'Don't make promises you can't keep, Prongs.' Sirius muttered, darkly, but his tone suggested that he was not really angry with James anymore, and so the bespectacled man did not press him any further.

 

When the tension in the room relaxed, the noise of an irritated Harry came shrieking from upstairs. Before any of the parents could even move, Sirius had already risen from his chair. He excused himself abruptly and went to calm Harry down, slamming the study door behind him with excess energy.

 

The couple were then left in silence.

 

'He must really love this Remus...' Lily stated finally, when the Auror was out of earshot. 'I've never seen him care this much about one person who wasn't family.'

 

'Sirius Black, in love?' James cried, as if Lily had just declared her undying love for the Giant Squid. When she smiled at him in response though, he added quietly, 'It would seem so, wouldn't it?'

 

* * *

 

**January 5th 1982 - 00:01**

 

'Dear Merlin, No...' Regulus whispered, amongst the ruckus that Grimmauld Place was making.

 

The young Black stared at the silver door that had once belonged to his most peculiar prisoner, as people ran around him to raise the alarm; to inform the Ministry – as per job protocol. The cracked and broken door allowed him to peer inside of the room, where he saw that the chains, that were once bound the the walls, had disintegrated, like the exfoliation of the bark of a tree. The walls were in the same condition as the chains; chunks had been torn away mercilessly. It was though a bomb had gone off in there.

 

However, what really sent chills down Regulus's spine, though, was the red foot and hand prints that trailed from a pool of blood (deposited in the middle of the room) and out of the door.

 

'QUIET!' Regulus roared in an authoritative voice. The uncharacteristic volume of his order startled several people, while others ceased their conversations, hastily.

 

When he had their full attention, he looked around them all and ordered, 'Someone send a patronus to Sirius; it is essential that he is informed of what has happened.' The majority of workers scuttled off; few remained where they were, performing the incarnation: _Expecto Patronum._

 

Regulus then leant back against the wall, eyes unfocused. His head was light and his stomach churned unpleasantly.

 

One of his worst fears had been realized.

 

Moony had escaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 56th Birthday, Remus (you got so old and didn't die at all)!


	9. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder, sentiment and... Probably a bit of a shock.

The pain.

 

The pain was so immense that his very spine quivered with fear; fear of what the man was going to do to him next. He had already hacked off his silver right hand without mercy - blood was still pouring from where the blade had met between silver and flesh. He knew why the man was doing this, of course. He had heard about him: the monster after blood.

 

_Pure_ blood.

 

The homicidal werewolf.

 

Not that this werewolf was an exception though, he thought. They were all as ruthless and blood thirsty as each other, deep down. They were scum; unworthy of the Wizarding community.

 

'You know why I'm doing this, Peter?' Moony asked, one of his hands was in his pocket and appeared to be grasping something tightly that the Death Eater had yet to see. As for his answer, Peter had some idea as to why the man was after him. After all, a lot of people would want him dead if they knew who he really was. Peter had played his part well these past few years; wearing his façade and spilling the Order's secrets to his dark lord.

 

He knew that this man was dangerous, maybe if he continued to play his weak role, he might just have a chance of survival.

 

'Please, don't hurt me! I didn't mean to!' He cried pathetically, water edging into his mouth when he made the mistake of twisting his head to the side in an attempt to shake his head while performing his melodramatic act. He spluttered and coughed as a result, causing the man to snort derogatively.

 

Now, the reason as to why Peter had just given himself a mouthful of water (the type of water that really should not go in one's mouth if one cares about their health): it was simply because he had been dragged down one of London's sewer drains by a very unpredictable and intimidating man, who had then proceeded to bind him to the floor 'with the other rats and scum'. The stench of piss and mucky water had originally made Peter gag, but he now held his breath, even as the sewage ran through his hair and stained his clothes and skin.

 

'You expect me to believe that, Wormtail?' Moony asked, eyebrow raised in sardonic amusement. This response shocked Peter so much that his jaw dropped.

 

'How do you know my-'

 

'Your _nickname_?' Moony finished, chuckling without mirth. 'Oh, I know of that all right; you're the rat, are you not? The nickname is very fitting though, I must say. I wonder how long it took them to come up with that one.' Whatever confidence Peter had before vanished, and instead he squirmed – all dignity lost.

 

'What are you going to do to me?' He stammered.

 

Moony smiled in a deranged way.

 

'Spoilers!' He sang in reply, before a serious countenance consumed him once more. 'Whatever it is though, Wormtail, it will most certainly be painful. I can confirm that.' He removed his hand from his coat pocket. Cradled in his fist was a large brown rodent. Peter squeaked. 'Do you know how rats respond when they find themselves trapped, Peter?' The werewolf asked.

 

'N- No...' Peter stuttered, fear in his eyes. Moony tutted.

 

'Well then, I think we will need a little demonstration to enlighten you.' When the rat in his hand began to struggle under his grip, Moony reached out a long finger and scratched it on its bony, hideous head to calm it. Only when it had fully relaxed in his hand did Moony continue. 'Allow me to explain this little procedure for you so that you understand. Hopefully you'll get it because it really is quite simple: when the rat finds itself encased in some small space that it wishes to escape from, it often burrows its way out in order to be free - no matter the medium. Understand?'

 

Peter nodded, but had yet to comprehend what extent this knowledge would play a part in with his current predicament. Sensing his confusion, Moony stepped forward and ripped Peter's cloak and jumper to expose his portly torso. 'And now for the demonstration.' He announced before then proceeding to gently place the tranquil rat on the Death Eater's stomach. When it had settled itself peacefully, Moony used Peter's wand to conjure up a small glass prison, shaped like a cube, around the rodent – making sure the glass stuck to Peter's flesh to successfully trap it.

 

The rodent instantly fell into a state of immense panic when it realized that it had been confined. Its pupils dilated and its head moved rapidly to look for the non-existent exit. The two men observed the rat in its actions for some time – one in pleasant expectance; the other in anticipated horror.

 

Finding no escape, the rat looked through the glass and at Peter (whose sweat had drenched his brow profusely), mouth open as it breathed erratically and beady black pupils large.

 

'Understand now, Wormtail?' Moony wondered, cradling his chin with his fingers, as if in deep thought. Upon hearing the lycanthrope, the rat turned it's head to look at Moony instead. The two held eye contact for several moments. It was shattered though, when the rat dove down to commence its burrowing into Peter's stomach; it tore mercilessly, until its scratches punctured the skin. Peter cried out in pain, but the rodent was ignorant to his screams – it was solely focused on its escape only. Moony watched this process for a while, lips turned upwards in a satisfied smirk.

 

Finally, he was free and able to thrive and kill once more.

 

Moony had hated being locked up in the white room, but the lycanthrope knew (even when he was being captured) that he had to go. He had to go to prove to them all – to Sirius – of what he was capable of. It was simple enough. Lock him up; torture him; drive him further into the pit of insanity with 'rehabilitation', but Moony would inevitably escape this therapy - which he had proved successfully (although it came with a short price). But he was in control now, all he would need to do is snap his fingers, and he could walk into the Ministry itself, and probably change a law if he really wanted to. He had an entire army at his command and one of the most powerful men in the country at his mercy.

 

His only problem now was Remus...

 

His time in confinement had unhinged his righteous host to the point of instability.

 

As this thought passed through his mind though, suddenly, a shot of pain burst through him, causing Moony to fall to his knees beside the sobbing Death Eater. His vision blurred and his smirk had vanished. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if fighting off a headache.

 

'Oh, no you don't, Rem!' He rasped out through gritted teeth. With every excruciating wail from Peter, there came another shiver of pain through him.

 

_'Stop this, Moony.'_ The lycanthrope pleaded in a strange voice; a different voice.

 

Remus's voice.

 

'You do not control me!' The gritted voice was back. The werewolf clasped his head in his hands. Moony abhorred being weak; hated Remus gaining control over him. He was the strong one, not Remus! Even through this battle though, he could feel every inch of his body numbing. If he did not get away soon, Remus would dominate them and save Peter from his fate – and Moony simply could not allow that to happen.

 

The Death Eater whimpered when Moony (using all his strength) gathered himself to address him. 'Sorry, Wormtail, something's come up... Bad day to die...' The resignation in his voice caused Peter's eyes to widen as he looked back at the werewolf in hope, albeit it did not last long, for the rat had just ripped through his intestine, causing him to emit a strangled cry.

 

The lycanthrope did not miss the hopeful look however, and explained, 'Oh no, not you, Wormtail; it's a very good day for you to die. I meant me.' Moony then broke off and groaned, as Remus continued to fight back. 'Good bye, Wormtail.'

 

And those were the last coherent words Peter Pettigrew heard before the pounding in his ears deafened him. He was vaguely aware of his murderer leaving, but his vision had begun to bleach of all colour and definition. He let out a scream, but this time it was gargled, for blood was now flowing from his mouth.

 

The irony was painful. Moony had tormented him and killed him using _the rat_ as a metaphor for both his greatest evil and his greatest hamartia: deception and cowardice.

 

* * *

 

**5** **th** **January - 2AM**

 

'What do you mean he escaped, Regulus!' Sirius shrieked, as his brother hung his head in shame and remorse. 'You were supposed to look after him! One job! How did he escape?'

 

'I don't know, Sirius.' He whispered. 'The last time he was seen, by any of us, was over twelve hours ago - when it was lights out.'

 

'Well, that's not fucking good enough!' Sirius retaliated. 'Do you have any idea how much danger this puts us in; puts Remus in?'

 

'Sirius, I'm sorry!'

 

'Sorry for what, Regs? Sorry for allowing Moony to escape or sorry for the fact that this little blunder will cause a full scale inquiry at the Ministry?' Sirius spat.

 

'I didn't _allow_ him to escape!'

 

'You haven't given me any reason to think otherwise!'

 

'Sirius, just listen to me, please!' Regulus pleaded. Sirius faltered in what he was about to say and stared at his brother, a look of cold bitterness upon his face. The young Black flinched at his brother's look and took a deep breath before he continued. 'A man came here earlier.' He looked intently at Sirius, contented with the fact that this bit of information had indeed perked his interest. 'He dropped off a parcel. No one was to open it, for it was addressed to you, and to you only.'

 

He took out his wand and summoned the aforementioned. Sirius took it from him harshly and ripped open the wrapping, scoffing. James, who was watching the exchange from the side was looking at Sirius with nervous anxiety – he could not remember the last time he had ever seen Sirius so angry (and by the looks of it, neither could Regulus).

 

The consulting Auror pulled out a very old and a very battered book, and – after shooting a glance from Regulus to James - he examined it in interest. James' eyebrows knitted together and he pursed his lips as he tried to read the title. He only managed to achieve this task when Sirius actually opened the book to look in the inside cover though.

 

_The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,_ it read.

 

One look at the inside and Sirius's eyes widened; he hastily slammed the book shut. It did not even register that he dropped the novella until it landed on the ground with a painful thud.

 

'What is it, Siri?' James asked. Regulus avoided all eye contact. Sirius bit his lip and shook his head.

 

'I have to go.' He spoke, earnestly, as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation.

 

Sparing no questions, he dashed off. James' jaw dropped at the sudden chain of events and, gobsmacked, he stared at the remaining Black - James did not bother running after Sirius, when the Auror was as stubborn and determined as this, there was no point in trying to reason with him anyway. After a prolonged silence, in which James hoped Regulus would actually speak to him but was thus disappointed, he jerked as if to say "What the hell was that about?"

 

'I don't know where he's gone, Dr Potter.' Regulus supplied, when his silence had begun to irritate the animagus. 'I should think that Sirius would not be happy, should I endeavour in this case further anyway. If you should wish to know where he is going though, then I would suggest you take a look at that book; it will undoubtedly contain the answer that you are looking for.'

 

Taking the honest - albeit simplistic - advice of Regulus Black, James walked over to the spot wherein the book had fallen. Helpfully, it was open to show the very inside cover in which Sirius had observed with particular interest. When his eyes fell upon the cursive written on the inside, James knew where his friend would be. His breathing quickened and – with a final glance at Regulus, who looked so forlorn and tired – he sprinted from the room to follow his friend.

 

When he had gone, the young Black glanced across the room to focus on the book which laid upon the floor - he had to admit, his curiosity had aroused from the surprise at James' hastiness in solving whatever riddle the lycanthrope had sent. When he read the writing though, this surprise evaporated, for it was not substantially problematic.

 

_'Everything has its time; a time to die. Death: the last problem to solve. The final problem. I could try to run from it, but I could never hyde forever.'_

 

'Hyde Park...' He murmured regrettably.

 

* * *

 

**5** **th** **January – 04.00AM**

 

Hyde park was always such a beautiful place for Remus. He remembered coming here once, as a child, during those countless years of running...

 

Before life got in the way; before Voldemort. Before Moony.

 

He chose to return to it now, because at the denouement of one's life, we often think of the beginning – back when the world was pure and prepossessing. He sat on the bridge of Serpentine lake, just like he did when he was eleven. His feet dangled off the edge, swinging absent-mindedly. Remus twirled the instrument he intended to do the deed with in his shaking but determined hands.

 

'I knew you'd find me here.' He sighed contently when Sirius unexpectedly sat down next to him.

 

'How did you know I would come looking?' The animagus asked, pretending as though he did not have the answer to that already. The lycanthrope chuckled.

 

'You're Sirius Black.' He whispered, as if the response was a satisfactory answer – and in a way, it was. 'You came because I asked you to.'

 

Sirius, it seems, was unable to contradict that.

 

'Why did you send for me then?' He questioned instead.

 

'Because I needed you to understand that I am going to end this war. The war between you and Moony; and the one that I constantly fight everyday.' He faced away from the tranquil current and at Sirius instead, who turned to meet that gaze. 'And I'm also going to help you destroy the darkest wizard of all time.'

 

'You know what you are then.' Sirius remarked coldly, although something else was hidden in his voice that was not quite placeable.

 

'I have known for a while, Mr Black.' He nodded in confirmation. 'I could not destroy Moony sooner because of my lack of control. I have dominated him now though, and I choose to use that to my advantage wisely.'

 

'How did you subdue him then?' Sirius wondered. The werewolf smiled again, this time though, it was legitimate.

 

'Sentiment.'

 

Sirius scrunched his nose up at the word; disdain written in the frown lines that had now appeared on his face.

 

'I do not believe in sentiment.' He stated.

 

'I am not convinced.' Remus countered quickly, much to Sirius's surprise. 'You feel sentiment, Mr Black, you are just indifferent to it.' He theorized. The animagus fidgeted uncomfortably, a movement that did not go unnoticed by the lycanthrope. 'You know I'm right, just as much as I'm right in thinking that you wish I wouldn't address you by your last name, Mr Black.'

 

The Auror stilled.

 

'I don't know what you mean.' Remus leant closer and placed his lips to Sirius's ear.

 

'I think you do, Sirius.' He whispered. The aforementioned shivered. 'Sentiment,' He stated a little louder, 'Though you may fail to acknowledge just how much you possess it, caused you to feel forlorn at the way I addressed you - with our past, to speak to you again, as if strangers, gave you great discomfort.' Sirius turned away ever so slightly. Remus leaned back, putting more space between them. 'Sentiment gave me the strength to fight back, for I had to see you - my only friend - one last time.'

 

Sirius looked at Remus with a bitter-sweet expression, which hastily transformed into one of alarm, when he finally took in the Basilisk fang that Remus had been holding in his hand for the duration of the conversation. Should he not have observed such an important aspect of Remus's countenance sooner?

 

_Sentiment._ His mind answered for him.

 

Sirius growled.

 

'I promised that I would save you.' He spoke, harshly.

 

'You did save me in a way, Sirius, and you can still do so now.'

 

'How?'

 

After the question had rolled off his tongue, the scene was silent. Sirius watched intently as Remus appeared to be contemplating how to answer the question. He looked back at the animagus as he thought, but he never pulled down any of his walls for Sirius to deduce the answer for himself. When the atmosphere became uncomfortable, Remus pulled his eyes away and stared out over the lake once more.

 

'Do you know what it's like, Sirius?' He spoke, deliberately choosing not to answer Sirius's question. When the Auror looked at him, urging him to elaborate further despite his irritation at not having his question answered, Remus continued, 'To feel so different, to the point at which, you wonder whether there's something wrong with you – that there's a reason you think and feel different to the others?'

 

Sirius shrugged in response, causing the lycanthrope to scoff. 'And here I thought you would admit to it; I was under the impression that Sirius Black took pride in being different from the others.'

 

'Why ask the question if you already knew the answer, then?' Sirius bit back. Remus's lip twitched upwards, omnisciently.

 

'Because as much as you believe it, and as much as everyone else believes it too, you have never actually said those words out loud yourself: "I am different, and with that I am alone, despite my company". You have never confessed to anyone – not even your best friend – that you thought that maybe there was something wrong with you – a reason you act differently and interpret emotions differently.'

 

'I do not need to acknowledge the fact verbally.' Sirius defended. 'As I have continuously said, actions and appearance speak louder than words.'

 

'But could you acknowledge it now? To me, could you?'

 

'Yes, I could say it whenever I choose to do so.'

 

'Go on then.'

 

'Fine. There is something wrong with me, and I don't know why – possibly something within the frontal lobe of my brain prevents me from handling emotions the same way everyone else does, I don't know – but just because I have a _problem_ doesn't mean I want it fixing.' The words flowed out fluently from him now, 'All the time I feel it, Remus; feel like this enigma, but I have learnt to embrace it and endure my abnormalities. I shape my differences from others, and use them to my advantage.'

 

The animagus paused when he realized that he had fallen into the werewolf's trap; this man in front of him had, indeed, made him voice the truth that he had never had the ability to say out loud before. Remus, for what it was worth, seemed impressed by his answer though, although the look in his eyes appeared all too forlorn and hopeless to make Sirius feel reassured or complacent about it.

 

'I have a problem too, Sirius, but unlike you: I know why.' He took a resigned breath and continued, finally answering the question Sirius had originally asked. 'You can help me. You can help me get rid of my problem; you can help me end it. Sirius Black can help bring peace to wizard kind – unorthodox social differences discarded from the picture.'

 

'And how would I go about that?' Sirius drawled out, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

 

'Don't play dumb with me, Mr Black.' Remus warned, the ghost of the wolf flashing in his eyes. When Sirius's cold look dropped, and instead he looked at the lycanthrope in pity, Remus growled.

 

'Kill me.' He stated earnestly. Sirius – who already suspected that would be the answer – scoffed, before looking into those shining emeralds and seeing the sincerity within their depths.

 

'No.' His answer was barely audible, yet so clearly spoken that his tone was non-negotiable. Remus sighed, disappointed, but did not press further.

 

'I figured as much... But it would've made things so much easier.' He then went to get up from where he was sat and stood on the railing of the bridge instead. He continued to look out over the water, wind blowing through his hair dramatically – like in Muggle movies; ones where the protagonist would then proceed to save the character in danger, and everyone would live happily ever after.

 

But this was not a cliché Muggle movie...

 

This was reality.

 

Sirius also got up, albeit he was clumsier than the werewolf in his actions. He stared up at Remus, his eyes wide.

 

'Get the fuck down from there, you great tosser!' He exclaimed, worriedly.

 

Remus chuckled, while Sirius continued to look horrified.

 

'I've always thought this place was beautiful, wouldn't you agree, Sirius?' He spoke, as if he was casually talking about the weather.

 

'It doesn't have to be this way, Remus. I promised I would save you.' Sirius almost pleaded. Remus cast his eyes away from the water and searched Sirius's face.

 

'You might not know it, Sirius, but I promised to save you too.' He sighed and looked away. 'This _is_ the only way.'

 

'It's not-'

 

'Do not be irrational.'

 

'But-'

 

'No! Stop it.' As he could clearly see Remus was becoming even more agitated, Sirius reluctantly gave up. Satisfied, the werewolf continued, 'I'm setting the packs free. If I die, then there will be no leader to take my place – seen as you appeared reluctant.'

 

'Dumbledore will be thrilled.' Sirius mumbled. They both smiled, almost mischievously.

 

'Promise me something, Sirius?' Remus wondered as the serious atmosphere returned. He squinted from the brightness of the sun as it commenced to rise from the horizon; the dawn of a new day.

 

'What, Remus?'

 

'If Moony comes back, and I am gone, finish the job for me.'

 

Sirius shook his head.

 

'No-'

 

'Please, Sirius!' He practically begged. 'It has to be done, and if I am gone then there would be nothing left for you to lose from it anyway!' He could have elaborated on his words and their inner meanings further, but he suspected Sirius would not take kindly to it. At his silence, the animagus begrudgingly nodded.

 

'Fine.' He spat.

 

Remus reached a hand out towards him; no contact ensued, but Sirius felt touched all the same.

 

'This isn't over.' The lycanthrope remarked after a tense period of silence. He let his hand drop. 'The war will continue. But with me gone, Voldemort will hopefully be mortal once more. You need to murder him, Sirius. Only you.'

 

Disregarding Remus's use of Voldemort's name, Sirius looked at him in wonder.

 

'Why me?'

 

'Because only a person with determination – not catalysed by emotion – can destroy a demon, whom caused so much loss and suffering. Emotion often blinds us, but you, Sirius Black, are an exception. You are an oxymoron; an enigma as you choose to call yourself. You are unfeeling to all emotion - besides that of where your true family is in regard. Because of this, you are therefore capable of channelling your grief into rational power over Voldemort, as opposed to an emotional fool, who is likely to make mistakes. Learn from my death, Sirius, and instead of trying to prevent it, _thrive_ from it.'

 

'But Dumbledore-'

 

'Dumbledore cannot do it. Do not question me, you know it is true.' He interrupted. Sirius knew he was right, but did not acknowledge it.

 

'Please don't do this, Remus...' He repeated, forlornly.

 

'You're clever enough to know that there is no other way out of this.' His words were true, but they still vexed Sirius, who could now only watch as Remus raised the fang and held it high; horizontal to his chest. The lycanthrope took a deep breath and brought the fang towards him.

 

Closer and closer.

 

Inches away from his heart, his whole body trembled, as though electricity had shot through him, again and again. This was not supposed to happen. Sirius – torn between relief over the fact that the instrument had yet to pierce Remus's skin, and worry over these uncontrollable spasms – stepped forward hesitantly, as if mentally deciding whether to help the man out or not.

 

But when those soft emeralds hardened and his posture stiffened, the urge to assist was gone, and Sirius was very glad that he had not gotten too close, because now he was in immediate danger.

 

Remus was gone.

 

This was not good, Sirius thought, as his gaze was met by Moony, whose head turned in an almost robotic way to lock onto Sirius. His lip curled upwards into a grin and he bared his teeth menacingly exposing his internal amusement towards something.

 

'Well, that was close, wasn't it?' He stated. 'He nearly had it; nearly let Wormtail escape, but I guess he had other priorities to attend to.'

 

'What?' Sirius asked, exasperatedly. One hand on his hips and the other massaging his temples, he shook his head as he looked around; a whirlwind of different thoughts filling his mind.

 

'It would seem that I'm doing your job for you, Padfoot.' Moony answered, mysteriously – disregarding the fact Remus had come close to killing him. Sirius looked at him, befuddled.

 

'What do you mean?' The lycanthrope tipped his head back and laughed in an almost cruel manner.

 

'It means that I wouldn't bother looking for the spy within the Order anymore if I were you, Siri. I've _taken care_ of him, if you know what I mean.' He winked, mockingly.

 

Sirius reflexively took a cautious step back that did not go unnoticed by the werewolf. 'What's wrong?' He asked, patronisingly. 'Disappointed that I got to little Peter Pettigrew before you?'

 

Sirius looked at him in loathing, and grit down all his suppressed emotion.

 

'No, you're what's wrong.' He spat. 'What proof did you have of his true loyalty?' Moony tutted.

 

'I have my contacts, although it was easy – in the end – all the evidence was there. The timid façade; the avoidance of eye contact; reluctance to trust, yet so eager to attend a Potter family party..'

 

'I would've noticed it!'

 

'Unless (much like Remus) you just had bigger priorities to attend to...'

 

Sirius realized that as much as he hated this man, he was undoubtedly right – it was so obvious that Peter was the spy that Sirius internally kicked himself for disregarding something so obvious. Instead of admitting defeat though, he countered swiftly, raising an eyebrow,

 

'Bigger priorities? Like what, destroying you?' Sirius's demeanour, as well as being catalysed by anger, changed as he steadily grew more confident with every syllable - and all due to Moony's blasé mention of Remus.

 

'Remus made me promise to get rid of you.' He continued. The lycanthrope scoffed in response, but Sirius stood his ground. 'You should know by now, Moony, that I never give up on a case. And seen as you killed the spy, it would seem that you are the only case left for me to-'

 

'Pity.' Moony interrupted, gazing out over the lake in a far off way. 'I warned you once before; threatened you before, but you haven't stopped.'

 

'You think setting your minions on me will make me abandon what I think is right?' Sirius questioned.

 

'No, I suppose not.' He confirmed. 'Thus, leaves me no choice.' He contemplated the weapon in his hand, weighing it. He then looked at Sirius – like a wolf would their prey. 'To spite Remus, I think I'll use this – although I wonder how he came about such a rare object in the first place?'

 

Without moving, his eyes flashed dangerously and Sirius felt his body stiffen. What was happening to him? It felt as though someone had put a Petrificus Totalus on him – maybe Moony had... Wandless magic was his forte, after all.

 

Focusing on his target, Moony held the fang, like one would when throwing a dagger. He paused only to say, 'It's been an honour, but in the end, you turned out just as boring - just as ordinary - as the rest. And so I'll say Goodbye now, Mr Sirius Black.'

 

But just as he loosened his grip on the weapon, what could be considered a miracle happened.

 

'AVADA KADAVA!'

 

A flash of green light shot out of nowhere and hit Moony from behind. A look of realization was painted upon the werewolf's countenance and he exhaled heavily, before toppling over the edge of the bridge and falling, falling into his watery grave, to be taken up by the seemingly smooth current.

 

Sirius gasped as the Basilisk fang missed him by mere centimetres – aim corrupted by the spell. When a loud splash ensued, the spell lifted, and he was able to look upon his saviour, who had been standing behind Moony, for the first time.

 

Unruly black hair, tanned; hazel eyes – filled with fear – hidden behind square, thick rimmed glasses, as tears escaped from his orbs.

 

_Prongs_.

 

'James, what did you do?!' Sirius cried. The animagus seemed not to know, himself, what he had done. His eyes were the size of knuts, and he looked down at his shaking hand, which was holding his wand, in shock and betrayal – as if it was his hand's fault he had just committed murder.

 

'He- He tried...' He shook his head and swallowed a few times, frown lines evident on his young face. 'I heard him; I saw him. He was going to kill you, Sirius.' He bowed his head as Sirius ran towards him. 'I couldn't let him, Sirius, I'm sorry... You, Remus...'

 

The Auror embraced his best friend as he broke down, trembling. James had never killed anyone before. As a doctor, he was supposed to save lives, not end them – Sirius understood this purpose that James had thrived for since Fabian Prewitt's unpleasant death, and so he also knew that it was his brother that needed comfort at that moment, more than anything else.

 

Sirius Black may not fully understand the concept of emotions, but he would inevitably do anything to prevent his best friend shedding more tears of realization and grief.

 

'It's fine, Jamie. You did save me, and while in the process, you also got rid of a terrible person. You showed true courage; I'm so proud of you!' He reassured. His words sounded forced, but James paid them no mind as he buried his face into Sirius's shoulder, trying to prevent the sobs that trembled through him.

 

Looking over his shoulder wistfully, Sirius gazed out over the railing of the bridge. The lake was undisturbed – besides the gentle rush of the current – and the body of Remus Lupin had long vanished into its depths for what should be forever more.

 

The lycanthrope had finally found his liberation, and Sirius should be happy that Remus's suffering had finally ceased.

 

Yet, why did he feel so empty inside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end - don't kill me.


	10. The Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath: two meetings, a family reunion and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing, with regard to the Black family tree, is an accidental mistake. I'll explain at the end anyway. Cheers!

**3rd February 1982 - 10:30**

  


'They don't eat; don't sleep – and on the off chance that James actually does, he is consumed by nightmares. I'm telling you Regs: the both of them need help.' Lily stated, earnestly. 'Proper help.' She added, after some thought.

  


Regulus looked at her with a mixture of pity and condolence.

  


'Lily, I'm sorry. I know my brother, and I know that there is nothing that I can do for Sirius; he will just have to get over it - he never accedes to help in any circumstance and he definitely won't allow it in this one. As for your husband, I can assure you that we can employ a psychiatrist – possibly even the same one he had last time – but he'd never agree to it. Our options are limited, I'm afraid.'

  


Lily huffed in irritation before closing her eyes to think. The duo cast a veil of silence between them. Regulus watched her brood as she placed a calming hand over her mouth and another to the back of her head - she tangled her hair absent-mindedly as she thought. When her eyes opened again, she was determined.

  


'Find them a case.' She all but ordered.

  


Regulus blinked.

  


'What?' He shook his head in comprehension.

  


'A case.' The red head drawled out. 'They need a distraction; something to take their minds off things. Find them a case that won't lead to them ending up worse off than they were before. Moony is gone – Remus is gone - they need to move on; especially Sirius. If they won't accept our help, then they need to endure and help themselves.'

  


Regulus nodded and stood from his place behind his desk. He strode over to the file cabinet that was set up in the corner of his office and commenced searching for something - Lily tried to see what, but the young Black strategically had his back to her. After relenting to defeat, Lily looked around the office. The room was firmly organised, she noted. The walls were painted silver and the carpet was a fitting beige, and books of all the genres you could think of filled numerous bookshelves - each novel appropriate for each patient that resided at Grimmauld Place's leisure.

  


'Do your _patients_ visit you often then?' The witch wondered aloud, as she casually abandoned the chair facing Regulus's desk to commence pacing while he continued to search.

  


'Yes. I make sure to talk to all my patients at least once a fortnight.' He answered, without turning. 'Dorcas Meadows - I think you will remember her - is a keen visitor of mine; every Wednesday afternoon she comes down to my office and we discuss the war outside. She's in for Blood treachery, you know - helped smuggle 37 Muggleborns out of the Ministry. Unfortunately for her, she got caught just after they fled - no time to escape herself. Brave woman, they used to torture her for information, ere I brought her here, you know.'

  


'Oh my! Is she well now though?' Lily inquired. She had remembered Dumbledore briefly mentioning Dorcas' predicament at an Order meeting around a year ago, but (as she recalled) the wizard had merely told them that she was only there for an undercover assignment - not that she had been captured. Vaguely, Lily wondered just how many lies Dumbledore had told them all through this war?

  


'Oh yes, she is quite well.' Regulus assured her. 'I try to make sure she's comfortable. She suffered a lot of injuries, but she can now walk again, at least.'

  


'Well, that's good.' Lily nodded. Then after a moment: 'But Regulus, what of you? We have been here not half an hour and as much as we have discussed others welfares, I have not as of now asked you whether _you_ are all right.'

  


This time, Regulus did pause his search to face her.

  


'I am fine, Mrs Potter, but whatever urged you to ask such a thing?' He spoke, reticently.

  


'I heard about the inquiry - I also see the signs of exhaustion on your face, for I know them lines well; I see them every day in the eyes of my loved ones.' She explained. She walked over and reached up to brush a few stray hairs away from Regulus's smoky grey eyes. Usually, his hair was pristine, but the exertion had really brought about his more stressful side. She placed her hand on his cheek, like a mother would, and rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone in concern.

  


'I'm fine, Lily.' He tried again, in vain, but made no effort to shrug the hand off.

  


'No, you're not, Regulus.' Lily spoke adamantly. 'It's all well and good that Sirius has us, but who looks after you?'

  


There was silence.

  


'No one.' He finally answered. 'I have no need for sentiment.' Regulus laughed, although there was little mirth in it.

  


'Funny, your brother said the same thing.' Lily mumbled aside, albeit not out of earshot. Before the wizard could question her though, she changed the subject. 'How did the inquiry go?'

  


Regulus brushed her away and turned his back to her to continue his almost abandoned search.

  


'We managed to bluff our way through it, although the Dark Lord grows evermore suspicious.' His words sounded forced; Lily was not convinced. Regulus noticed this and added, 'It is true that I do not have many more chances though. That much is obvious. We need to watch our step from now on; _all of us._ '

  


He looked over his shoulder at Lily intently, who knew he was referencing more than just the staff at Grimmauld Place. Clearly, it was not uncommon gossip that her family had been targeted by Voldemort. Before she could press the matter further though, Regulus turned to face her and drew her back to the main topic of her visit.

  


'Call them in, Mrs Potter.' He spoke, a professional air to his voice. 'I've found the perfect one.'

  


'A case?!'

  


'Indeed! And an intriguing and illuminating one at that!' He expressed, as he shut the cabinet and waved a file at her. Lily observed his confident smile and decided to let the other subjects drop.

  


She guessed their heart to heart chat could wait another day. Right now, she had to take care of two moping animagi.

  


* * *

**  
**

**3rd February - 13:00**

  


Asking them to come to Grimmauld Place was not as hard as Lily had first thought it would be. Sirius and James were too far absorbed in their wallowing in self-pity to pay much mind to what Lily was talking about anyway. With the knowledge that Voldemort was still looking for them, Lily could not take any chances with regard to Harry, and so sent the boys on their way while she elected to stay behind with her son – who was all too happy to be away from his moping father and Godfather anyway.

  


It was only when they were seated in the two chairs behind his brother's desk at Grimmauld Place that Sirius finally noticed the sizeable cactus plant in the corner of the room and recognised it as being his brother's. When he looked up, he realized that Regulus was indeed watching him and James intently.

  


His brother was looking tired (the premature age lines on his face showed that), but it seemed that his sleep deprived eyes and sweat streaked hair were not there out of mourning (like him and James) but stress. It seemed as though Voldemort had found out about his little security problem – it also seemed as though Regulus had actually been speaking to him while he had been making his deductions.

  


'Sorry, Regs, what did you say?' Sirius then asked, wiping at his face tiredly as the aforementioned huffed in impatience. Only when the animagus' expression morphed into one of his usual sharp self that Regulus repeated what he had said.

  


'A matter has arisen, dear brother, and I need you and Dr Potter to have a look at it.' He spoke, professionally.

  


'Why do you need me? Why can't you do it yourself, if it's so important?' He shrugged in response.

  


'I believe you know my position, Sirius.' Regulus replied, coldly. 'Especially now that the Ministry is watching my every move, I can hardly handle a case like this. It is more your area of expertise, after all.' He passed the large brown envelope over the desk, where it fell onto Sirius's lap. James looked curiously between the two Blacks as Sirius opened the seal of the envelope and lifted out a file.

  


'Nymphadora Tonks?!' He exclaimed after reading the first line. 'Andy's daughter?'

  


Regulus nodded.

  


Intrigued, Sirius read the file some more. When he finished, he looked up incredulously. 'You can't be serious?'

  


'Oh, I assure you, we are very serious.' Regulus replied, wretched. 'You know, our dear aunt Andromeda has just turned forty; probably best she doesn't know about what... recreational activities her daughter partakes in.'

  


'Tonks is only nineteen!' Sirius remarked. 'The last time we saw her, she was hung up over Babbity Rabbity, for Merlin's sake!'

  


'What has Tonks actually done, Padfoot?' James asked, looking at his best friend with doleful, albeit alert eyes. Sirius puffed out a deep breath, staring, once again, at the file – as if the words would hopefully change at a second glance.

  


'Tonks has managed to irk Regulus's employer – the latter of whom, from the file, apparently chooses to remain nameless – by obtaining various objects that share a deep importance to that said employer.'

  


'And how did she come about obtaining these particular objects?' James asked.

  


Regulus sighed, while Sirius snorted, mirthlessly.

  


'By engaging with persons close to said employer in many... er... interesting and _compromising_ ways...' When James looked even more confused than he did before, Sirius elaborated, 'It seems my baby cousin had become quite the little tart-'

  


'SIRIUS!' Regulus exclaimed, before recovering his cool composure once more. He continued, much more controlled, 'I must insist that you stop right there, unless you actually agree to take the case. If you cannot contain yourself then I will leave it for the DMLE to sort out.' Sirius's serious expression was back (not that the Auror was aware that it had gone). He looked from his brother to the file once more.

  


'Yes, of course I'll take the case (and pretend you have no ulterior motive in assigning me it – other than to get back into your said employer's good books), but please state what it is you want me to do about Tonks, specifically.' He replied. The relaxed tone in his voice implied that he was very much aware of his task.

  


'Retrieve the objects back to me, or else our employer might not take too kindly to any of us.' Regulus answered, not denying the implied hidden ego.

  


Sirius nodded and stood then, looking his little brother up and down. James and Regulus reacted to his movement that signalled the duo's departure, and stood also. After finding his brother's eyes – fierce storm clouds against cunning wisps of smoke – the animagus asked,

  


'Does Voldemort know you're asking me to undergo this particular case for you, Reg?' Sirius smiled contently when his brother's jaw slackened momentarily.

  


'Well, I suppose that was obvious...' Regulus analysed after a few seconds. He then answered, 'No, he doesn't, so do not muck up too badly, dear brother, and hopefully – if you get this right – _I_ won't have to suffer the consequences.'

  


He then went to show them out of his office courteously. At the door, Sirius turned to whisper loudly, albeit not maliciously, in his ear,

  


'I assure you that I wouldn't dream of that happening, _brother dear._ '

  


* * *

**  
**

**4th February 1982 - 09:00**

  


Her eyes were a particular green today – like that of two shining emeralds. Her hair: a mixture of her trademark bubblegum pink, along with various streaks of crimson and turquoise as well. She was feeling very tropical today; very magical.

  


She liked feeling enchanted.

  


When setting up her career, she had elected not to go by her first name – it was too personal; too fairytale, she had explained to herself – but that did not stop her from altering her appearance from time to time to follow the symbolism of her birth name. She could alter whenever she chose, but as much as one hides in a disguise, it always tells a story about the person beneath the façade. She knew her person behind the mask well.

  


The Woman.

  


That is what she had called herself; that was her mask. She decided as much to hopefully promote a society in which women are seen as superior, for they needed to be more assertive if they were to survive in a man's world. Most women would criticise her for using her sex to manipulate and gain control over people, but she knew that to bring a person down, you had to use your strengths as their weakness.

  


Tonks could be anything and anyone her client wanted, it was only obvious she should be able to use that to her advantage.

  


Take this situation as an example now. She was sat on her favourite sofa, ready for her expected unexpected visitor (not that the aforementioned expected unexpected visitor knew that they were expected). Her mansion was pristine and pearl white - it was the opposite atmosphere to that of the house she grew up in: coal black and ancient. She was wearing nothing but jet black heels, a leather jacket and a thong of a similar colour. She held in her hand a photograph, which she observed, tracing a scarlet painted nail over the edge of the paper as her hair gradually transformed into a different colour.

  


Darker...

  


A loud knock emitted upon the grand, marble front door. Tonks startled, causing her hair to settle as an odd burgundy.

  


Finally, she thought, her visitors had arrived. Her maid answered the door for her, and she heard brief murmurings between the two parties. In less than a minute, the conversation was over and the door to her living room was being opened and in stepped her visitors.

  


The first one, she recognised clearer than day. He was even more handsome than the last time Tonks had seen him, although it was almost a decade ago since their last encounter. His hair was longer than hers now and was the same brilliant shade of ebony that it had been when he was a child. He was tall, toned and his piercing grey eyes made her pupils dilate with sinful admiration – she was his cousin, after all.

  


The second man was, admittedly, not as impressive as his friend, but he still possessed many traits that she found attractive. His hazel eyes provided the warmth and emotion that Sirius's lacked, and although he was not as tall as his friend, he was clearly fitter. He also had a head of messy locks that were gorgeous in a different way to that of Sirius's mane – but that did not falter the impressiveness of his countenance.

  


Getting up from the sofa, she met the duo at the centre of the room. She held out a hand, which they both shook after a brief awkward moment (she kept Sirius's touch longer than necessary).

  


'Wotcher, Sirius! It's been too long. It is a pleasure to see you again.' She greeted amiably before turning to his friend. 'And you must be the infamous Dr Potter, gosh, you're definitely one to look at, just like Sirius.'

  


She noticed the pair exchange a concerned look, and experienced a feeling of deep satisfaction in making them feel uncomfortable. She sat down again, making her manner appear more suggestive as she deliberately let the jacket expose some more skin. 'So, for what do I owe the pleasure of such fine gentlemen?' She asked, biting her lip. She already knew the answer, of course.

  


'You mean, you don't know?' Sirius asked, eyebrow raised. He chose to remain standing; it intimidated, albeit thrilled Tonks.

  


'Of course I know, Siri. I just want to hear you say it.'

  


Sirius scoffed.

  


'Does one need a reason to visit a fine member of one's own family now?' He asked.

  


'Oh, please!' Tonks spat, irritated now; she stood also at this point. 'Only now do you recognise me as family. It's been years, Sirius, and only now to you choose to come. Do not try to convince me that there is no hidden agenda behind all of this!'

  


James eyes were wide as his focus darted between the two cousins at an alarming speed, as though he were watching a very quick duel. Tonks breathed deeply, her chest heaving while Sirius smirked. After a moment though, the Auror tilted his head slightly and shot a glance towards James, who took in its meaning and stood abruptly.

  


'Excuse me for interrupting, Miss Tonks, but do you happen to have another fireplace in which I could contact my family – they've been targeted by Voldemort, you see, and I just need to check that they're all okay and also to let them know that Sirius and I are currently safe – if that's all right with you, of course?' The witch shook her head to compose herself.

  


'Oh, yes! Yes, please do so.' She gestured the dining room next door. 'Just through there.'

  


'Thank you, Miss.'

  


'Not at all.' She called as he left. When James was out of earshot, she turned back to Sirius. 'Okay, I know you planned that. Now really, why are you here?'

  


'I heard of your little... business.' Sirius confessed, shrugging nonchalantly.

  


'And it intrigued you because?'

  


'Because I wondered what your _clients_ would use as payment.' He answered.

  


'Interested, are you? Sorry, Siri, but as much as you are ravishable, I would have to decline.' She smiled coyly. 'Family members are a different matter.'

  


Sirius rolled his eyes.

  


'Well, we both know that's not quite true.' He countered. Tonks shot him a horrified glare, but he did not divulge deeper. 'As for payment, it's not like you need the money, disowned or not, you're still a Black. You're after something else, I know it. I was worried about you, Dora. What have you gotten yourself into this time?' He spoke with practised ease, although his words had no feeling to them.

  


'Well, they pay whatever they have to offer.' Tonks mumbled, as she sat back down. She clearly avoided the question and was looking anywhere but at Sirius. Her loss in confidence caused Sirius to falter slightly. How vulnerable must his cousin be to give in so easily? He sat down next to her and looked at her intently.

  


'And what, pray tell, did Lucius Malfoy use as payment?' He asked, watching for her reaction. Tonks looked up at him, alarmed.

  


'How did you know about that?' She whispered, voice raising.

  


'Same way I usually do.' He answered, loathing his family just a little bit more at the confirmation of his revelation.

  


Tonks's lips pursed in an unsure manner as she looked towards a glass cabinet filled with ancient-looking books opposite them in the corner of the room.

  


'Oh, nothing special.' She lied.

  


Only when Sirius stood again did her gaze remove from the cabinet to meet his; fear was evident on her usually smug face. The look made Sirius wonder just how much Tonks had suffered during their time apart.

  


'It may have been a long time, Nymphie, but I still know when you're lying.' He walked over to the cabinet and took out his wand. 'Not a very good sealing spell by the way – you'll need to practice on them.' He observed, before the lock let out a loud click and the door opened.

  


As Sirius had expected, there were no books behind the door. Instead, there was a royal purple pillowcase, holding what looked like a glimmering tiara. Cautiously, Sirius reached out to grasp it, but before his fingers could enclose around it, Tonks rose and let out a little squeak. The animagus turned back to look at her, an amused grin on his face.

  


'Problem?' He asked. She shook her head, lips disappearing nervously. When Sirius reached his hand out again, she spoke,

  


'Okay. Okay! Look, there's a spell on. I don't know what it is, but anyone who touches the tiara gets hurt. Malfoy put some sort of spell on it and told me to keep it safe for him.' She confessed. 'He said it was important.'

  


'Really?' Sirius straightened up and reached out a hand to gesture for her to come over. When she complied, he touched her cheek gently, like a parent would. 'Do you know why it needs to be kept safe?' She shook her head unconvincingly and lowered her eyes. Sirius sighed and continued through her silence, 'I need to take it now, if that's all right?'

  


Those startlingly lush eyes met his, and Sirius's heart almost stopped.

_  
_

_Those eyes..._

  


'No.' She spat. 'You can't take it. I need it.' Comprehension dawned on her as she looked into Sirius's eyes. 'You know what it is, don't you?!'

  


'So do you, by the looks of it.' Sirius replied.

  


'And you've come to take it?!'

  


'Yes.' The look she gave him was of disgust. 'Come now, Dora, if what you think this Diadem is, is concurrent to my belief, then why can't I take it?'

  


'Because You Know Who will know and he'll kill me!' Tonks retaliated. 'Ravenclaw's Diadem is my protection. As long as I have it, he cannot hurt me, because he knows that I'm aware of how to destroy it.'

  


'How do you plan on destroying it though?' Sirius asked. 'I see no weapons.' Tonks shoved past Sirius and opened the drawer underneath the glass cabinet. When the Auror looked over her shoulder to see what she had revealed, his eyes widened.

  


The drawer was filled with countless Basilisk fangs, ranging from size to sharpness to brightness. 'How did you come by all of these?!' He asked, incredulously. Tonks smiled at his amazement.

  


'I knew a Magizoologist – well, I knew what she liked.' She explained, smirking. 'She was an expert in serpents, I recall - came in handy - this was her method of payment.'

  


She turned her head to inspect Sirius's reaction. She did not know what she was hoping for: surprise; maybe disapproval, or admiration. What she did not expect though was the brooding expression that he gave her instead, as if calculating something enigmatical in his head. 'What's wrong, Sirius?' She asked, her tone genuine.

  


Sirius looked at her intently. She nearly flinched under his penetrating glare.

  


'Did you ever give any of these fangs to anybody?' He asked urgently. Tonks was taken aback by the question - she had not expected him to mention the man so soon - but answered it no less.

  


'Yes, so what if I did?' She shrugged. Sirius growled, but before he could go off on a tangent, he remembered the timed plan and quickly shook his head. There would be plenty of time for questions after he had recovered the other object currently in his cousin's possession.

  


'What did Bella leave here?' He asked instead. All colour drained from Tonks's face and she swallowed heavily.

  


'She- She didn't-'

  


'She did. And she better not have done anything to you.' Sirius finished, a protective edge to his voice. 'But she did leave something in your possession. Something you currently value even more than the Diadem.'

  


'I don't know what you're talking about, Sirius.'

  


'Oh, I think you do, Dora.' The animagus countered. The two stared at each other for a long while. Sirius could not help but feel a sense of familiarity as he glared into her green eyes, but repressed the feeling when – precisely on time – a Muggle fire alarm went off.

  


Tonks's eyes tore away from Sirius's as she gasped; her gaze moving from the alarm to the fireplace.

  


'What did you do?' Tonks's cried as she whipped her head around at the sound.

  


Sirius chuckled.

  


'All right, you can turn it off now, James!' He called. His order was swiftly carried out, and the room was filled with the sound of an eerie silence. Sirius laughed low in his throat again.

  


'Wha- Oh...' Tonks stared at Sirius and James (who had just entered the room, pocketing his wand in his robes) in apprehension.

  


'When faced with a danger, a mother would look towards her child – in your case, it's whatever is in this fireplace, as I doubt very much that you have a baby in there.' He walked over to the fireplace and began inspecting it, while James appeared beside Tonks, looking quite pleased with himself.

  


'How are your family?' Tonks asked almost bitterly, as she moped.

  


'They're well, luckily.' James responded. When the witch looked at him in question, he continued, 'I did actually call them, you know, just not with the Floo; that kind of communication isn't reliable anymore. Voldemort wouldn't monitor a Muggle device though – good job you've got a telephone.'

  


'Oh right...' Tonks nodded in understanding. 'Yeah, my dad made me get one. My other Grandparents are Muggles, you see, and with the war, they want constant contact with me.'

  


'That's fair enough...'

  


'Got it!' Sirius suddenly exclaimed, pressing down what could only be a button on the underside of the fireplace. Upon the contact, the wall behind vanished upwards to reveal a secret chamber.

  


'What is it?' James asked, squinting to get a better look.

  


'Well, I can't see it thus far, but am I right in assuming that it's Hufflepuff's long lost relic, Dora?' Sirius replied.

  


Tonks, yet again, seemed alarmed, but did neither confirm nor deny it – Sirius only needed the look on her face to know of his unerring assumption anyway. 'Hold the fort, Prongs. I'll be back in a minute.'

  


Sirius then left the other two to watch him as he journeyed into the fireplace; his footsteps echoed loudly upon the coal floor and bounced off the walls loudly. As he trekked further and further, the sound of his heels became less prominent. When they were finally left in silence, James turned to survey the room with more interest. His eyes flicked from the pure atmosphere of the room to the delicate positions of the furniture curiously.

  


'It's not always this clean, you know.' Tonks imputed, noticing his inspection.

  


'Oh?' James responded, 'I did think it seemed a little unnatural.'

  


'Yes, well...' She laughed. 'I'm so clumsy that I break some sort of object daily. It's only this tidy when I have guests over.'

  


'You knew we were coming then.'

  


'Oh yes. It was inevitable.'

  


James nodded, exasperated.

  


'Everything can be explained as inevitable when it comes to your family.' He stated, but did not press the matter any further. Instead, he looked down at the coffee table to see a photograph placed, face down, on the glass. Intrigued, he walked over to pick it up. Tonks watched him cautiously as he walked, but did not comment until his fingers brushed the paper curiously.

  


'Don't touch it.' She warned, threateningly.

  


James jumped and turned to face her; photo enclosed in his hand.

  


'Why not?' He asked, eyebrows raised in questioning.

  


Tonks set her jaw and stood, almost shaking.

  


'Because we mustn't touch what isn't ours.' She answered, tone proper. Despite this change in attitude, James did not let go of the picture and instead, he made to uncover the object of the photo. 'I'm warning you, Dr Potter.'

  


'What significance does this particular image have?' James wondered, nonchalant to Tonks's manifesting anger.

  


'What particular image are we talking about?' Sirius called, as he returned from the chamber.

  


'You found it?!' James exclaimed, excited.

  


Tonks was still panting from controlled anger. The picture was still clasped in James' hand but was forgotten.

  


'Oh yes.' Sirius confirmed, positioning his coat, as if to cover up something. He he flashed them all his trademark smile as the pair stared at him: James in curious wonder and Tonks in irritation.

  


When several moments of awkward silence passed, Sirius's grin faltered and he coughed uncomfortably. 'So what picture were we talking about then?' He asked again in the hopes of reviving the previous conversation.

  


'Like I told your friend: it's none of your business.' Tonks replied, briskly.

  


'Hmmm... Okay.' Sirius shrugged. He nodded his head continuously in exaggeration. Tonks raised a bemused eyebrow. 'Okay... Okay, James?' He looked expectantly at his best friend, who blinked dumbly.

  


'Yes?'

  


Sirius smiled affectionately, albeit patronisingly.

  


'Accio.'

  


The photo shot from James' clutch and flew into Sirius's open palm, face down. He looked up and smirked at the animagus, who smiled unsurely back. 'Now, I wonder who the newest object of your affections is, Nymphie?'

  


'If you're so interested, then why don't _you_ enlighten us?' Tonks suggested. 'Surely, Sirius Black does not need a picture to deduce my... client.'

  


Sirius grinned.

  


'Well, the blatant show of possessiveness over this particular photograph – you've demonstrated more protectiveness towards that than the diadem – shows that you're deeply attached to the object of it. It's obviously a person as I can see the silhouette through the back - and no that's not cheating, it's observing. But anyway, the fact that the picture was exposed when James and I entered, suggests that you were just looking at it and did not have time to hide it, although you did place it face down on the counter. This implies that you intended to keep the contents concealed from us - suggesting that we know the person.

  


'Your eyes are a familiar green today.' He remarked, without looking up. 'And you never change your eye colour unless you're specifically motivated to change it, implying that the person in the picture has eyes of the same complexion you have now. I only know one person with eyes like that, and it's not Lily. As well as this, your usual bubblegum pink hair is darker than usual, implying that you were in the middle of transforming it to another colour before we interrupted you, possibly brown...'

  


Sirius stopped abruptly and looked at James with deep frown lines etched upon his countenance. The Auror had suspected from the start, but now the facts were blatant.

  


'Object of my affections, you say?' A low tone replied; a familiar tone.

  


Sirius's head snapped around to gaze upon Tonks, who was in the process of carrying out her previous transformation. Her hair grew shaggy and darker... Brown, with flecks of grey. Silver scars from torture and self-inflicted wounds began to stitch themselves over her skin. Her love-heart shaped face hardened and sunk to become gaunt and masculine, as her now sunken eyes formed purple bags underneath them. The curves of her body retreated and her rib cage and hip bones became more prominent, while the flesh of her breasts also shrunk and flattened. Her height rose, taller and taller, her spine curving slightly with it.

  


Her hands moved to cover her lower body, clearly she had not thought about the thong when planning the impression. Matters aside, she addressed them – Sirius in particular, 'Well, I must say, he was a fun one - Moony.'

  


Sirius flushed in aggravation, and his jaw locked into place. James' eyes were the size of knuts and his mouth had formed a comical O as a reaction to seeing the form of the late Remus Lupin before them.

  


'Fun how?' Sirius asked through clenched teeth.

  


Tonks laughed, but there was nothing in that spine-chilling noise that was funny to the animagus. Sirius realised then that Tonks had spoke, not of Remus, but of Moony only.

  


'Oh, nothing like that, Siri.' She reassured. 'I just meant as in he told me about his little plan – he spoke about you a lot!' Her smile brightened, before darkening pretty quickly. 'We've conversed for a while now. Sometimes, he would be gentle, kind and remorseful... but that was only seldom. Mostly, he was power hungry and cruel, but he was my client, so I had to endure.'

  


'When was the last time you saw him?' James questioned, as Sirius seemed to momentarily forget his voice. Tonks faced him and gazed into his eyes intently with her seemingly dead emerald orbs.

  


'Not so long ago. He came to collect something.' She shrugged.

  


'What was it?'

  


'The Basilisk fang.' Sirius answered for his cousin, who nodded hesitantly.

  


'How'd you know?'

  


'Observation.' Sirius stated, stonily. 'What did he tell you upon the visit; what was he like?'

  


Tonks gulped.

  


'Well, he was softer than usual – he was not his usual cruel self. He seemed a different person. That rare personality he possessed that I hardly ever saw. He was courteous and addressed me in a proper tone. He told me...' She paused.

  


'Yes?' Sirius urged, impatiently. Tonks gnawed on the inside of her cheek.

  


'He told me he needed to disappear; to free himself.'

  


'Did he tell you who is really was?' Sirius asked.

  


'Briefly.' She nodded.

  


'Well, he succeeded.' The animagus continued. 'He's dead, we were there.'

  


'I- I killed him...' James whispered, head bowed.

  


Tonks shook her head, smiling a lipless smile.

  


Sirius's confidence lost itself in the gesture and he looked at Tonks in bewilderment, urging James to do the same. 'What do you mean by that?!' He exclaimed. 'He was dead! He died, then fell into a lake! You just confirmed as much!'

  


'No, I didn't. He didn't...' Tonks countered, eyes shining and glassy. 'The thing is, Siri, most of my clients are Death Eaters. They tell me secrets. Rodolphus Lestrange came to see me a couple of weeks ago. He mentioned something... Something that might interest you, I think...'

  


'What?'

  


'Voldemort's captured a werewolf.' Tonks exhaled shakily. Lestrange was the one who gave me the photograph. He said the beast would pay for what he did to his brother. I recognised him but I couldn't do anything about it. I thought - like you - that he had died.'

  


When Sirius still seemed at a loss for words, she stated the obvious that had yet to be verbally revealed.

  


'Remus survived, but Voldemort's got him.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, explanation time!   
> Cygnus Black's side of the family appear to have been moved up the family tree by a generation, but it was only to fill the age gap for Tonks – seriously though, if we're abiding by canon in this then she would have had to have been around nine at this point! So basically: Tonks is Sirius's cousin; Bella, Andy and Cissy are his aunts; Draco can still be the same age as Harry, but is Sirius's first cousin instead (not that that would matter, unless you wanted to be picky with the detail). So yeah, sorry for any confusion!


	11. The Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twist, the meeting and the beginning.

_The world was white; blanched. Y_ _et why did pain continue to irk him in death? There should have been no variables left to cause his suffering... A_ _t least the intensity of his pain should have lessened after he fell into the water?_

 

The water!

 

He remembered where he was now, and where he had been after he had died. Because he had been dead, had he not? He had spoken to death... Hadn't he? He could not quite remember before so well... But he remembered the train station, and he remembered the cloaked figure... The figure that had given him a choice.

 

_The choice to go on or to stay behind..._

 

Then he remembered what he had thought of when making his decision: his liberation; his peace. All his suffering would end. No more transformation. No more discrimination.

 

_No more Moony._

 

_The answer was obvious, was it not? He had to go on..._

 

_But then he had thought of Sirius. Sirius and James and all of their family. They were not at peace, like him. They were still in the midst of the war. Remus had to go back. He had to help them. Voldemort had targeted the Potters, had he not? And Sirius was unpredictable. He had to save them – regardless of whether he had to face the darkest wizard of all time to do so._

 

Then Remus remembered: he had chosen to **stay**.

 

_And with that, a loud splash sounded unexpectedly, and he was plunged into an abyss; back into the water._

 

 _At his decision, he had been brought back to the life before his death._ _Ere the darkness of the inbetween, he had fallen into the lake; it was freezing. Icy water had pierced his skin. His eyes had burned when he opened them to try and search for a non-existent exit. Pain and pressure; unbelievable pressure. His ears had pounded as he heard the drumming of his pulse hammering in his ears. The wound in his chest had prickled excruciatingly, and h_ _is hands reached up to touch what should have been the gaping hole, but he had found nothing there but scar tissue underneath his shirt._

 

_He could not understand..._

 

_He had then processed the unmistakable current of water around him as he had looked to find his way to the surface. He could not breathe though; he had been restrained from that by the lake. The pounding in his ears became more prominent. His pulse slowed down. Slower and slower. He rapidly became light headed as he searched for the surface. He could not move though. His muscles had betrayed him; the lake had swallowed him._

 

_He was stuck._

 

 _Despite the pressure though, he had felt different – as if a colossal weight had been lifted from him (albeit only figuratively, a huge weight was definitely weighing him down in t_ _he water)._

 

For the first time in his life, Remus had had full control of his mind.

 

_Cruelly though, the price was that he was going to die... Again._

 

_He had sunk into the lake. Further and further. He was paralysed. His vision was blurred and he saw the stars._

 

_Not long..._

 

'Crucio!'

 

A large surge of pain split though Remus as he jolted awake from his ever shifting consciousness. The unbelievable pressure of water around him was gone. His memory: interrupted. He was no longer resting at the bottom of Serpentine Lake; he was sprawled across a lifeless stone floor, so cold that it pierced his skin like knives – although that could have been from the Cruciatus curse that had just been performed on him.

 

Remus – realising that he was indeed still alive – hesitantly opened one emerald eye to observe his whereabouts. What he had not anticipated for, however, was for the scarlet eyes of Lord Voldemort himself to be staring down at him in disdain and disgust. The lycanthrope nearly jumped out of his skin. The reason for all his suffering was taunting him again. Voldemort noticed his unease and smirked.

 

'Hello Remus.' He spoke with a toneless voice, sadistic grin never faltering. 'It's good to see you again.'

 

The werewolf remembered their last encounter; he did not want to relive it again.

 

'What am I doing here?' He croaked in an accusatory tone.

 

Voldemort flicked the wand he had previously been caressing with his flaked, skeletal hands, and levitated Remus from the floor and chained him up against the wall. The werewolf's back hit the wall with an echoing thud. He tried to repress a wheeze, which did not go unnoticed by Voldemort.

 

'You're very foolhardy, Lupin.' He remarked instead of answering him. 'Very brave, yes of course... but very foolish.'

 

The intensity of Voldemort's glare made Remus feel so small and uncomfortable. He flinched away and retreated upon himself in what could have been mistaken as fear, but was merely apprehension.

 

Suddenly though, it all evaporated. The anxiety; the belittlement. Exhaling, Remus opened up from his protective stance and straightened up. He knew what Voldemort was trying to achieve by this. Unblinking eye contact; victim in an immense state of unease and anxiousness; the feeling of invasion. At that moment, Remus cleared his throat in defiance and closed his eyes; closed his mind – away from Voldemort.

 

Several moments passed as he tested his theory – exerting his practised ability as an Occumens - until finally, the dark wizard admitted defeat and emitted a serpent-like hiss. Remus, having the upper hand for a brief period, chose this time to ask the question again.

 

'Why am I here?'

 

Another hiss.

 

'Tell me why I am here!' He demanded, louder.

 

'HOW DARE YOU TALK TO MY DARK LORD IN THAT WAY! YOU'RE HERE BECAUSE MY DARK LORD WANTED YOU TO BE HERE, YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED!' A screech came from behind Voldemort in answer. Remus startled at the intensity of the pitch; he recognised that voice. All too well...

 

Voldemort, sensing the lycanthrope's fear, never let his scarlet eyes leave Remus's weary ones, as a woman came to stand at his side, just behind him.

 

This woman had the most deranged look about her. Remus recognised her, of course – a wolf does not forget the look of his torturer easily. Her mane of tangled, coal black hair seemed to defy gravity almost fully, and the contours of her face were gaunt, but wild. What really unhinged Remus, though, was her wide eyes: grey, like a dangerous mist. A grey that was as poisonous as a minacious smog.

 

A grey, like the kind every member of the Black family possessed – save one pair: kind ones that Remus had found during the storm.

 

The werewolf collected himself and hastily drew away from the subject of Sirius. He had to clear his mind, for he could feel Voldemort trying to penetrate his reticent walls again.

 

'Five minutes, Bella.' Voldemort soothed with an obstinate tone that reminded Bellatrix of her place. She bowed hastily, and retreated a few steps (but still kept very close to her master), looking between the aforementioned and their prey with want in those heavy-lidded eyes. Remus tried hard to stand his ground.

 

'How did I get here? I was dead at the bottom of Serpentine Lake.' He questioned, clearly – although his voice shook momentarily (the pair either did not notice this, or just chose not to comment on it). There was silence after the werewolf's echoes faded though, for it seemed that neither of them wanted to answer him. They both chose to merely stare at him in contempt.

 

'Well, you see, someone – that is to say me – was trailing you. I saw your encounter with Black and Potter. I saw you fall, but I knew you hadn't died. So I levitated you out of the lake before you drowned instead, so don't be so dramatic and say that you died.' Answered a new, bitter voice through the eerie silence.

 

Remus froze.

 

Bellatrix made no effort to withdraw her close proximity to Voldemort, not even when her husband appeared at her side. He scoffed mirthlessly when Remus's jaw slackened. 'I take it you remember me – or remember my brother, that is. You did kill him after all, didn't you?'

 

'I didn't kill your brother.' Remus mumbled. He deliberately faced away from the trio. Rodolphus noticed the action and drew out his wand.

 

'Lying animal!' He sliced the air with a non-verbal incarnation. Remus's head involuntarily turned back to face the wizard. 'You will look at me!' The lycanthrope fought against the restraint, but to no avail. 'If you didn't kill Rab, then who did? Huh?'

 

Silence.

 

The Death Eater snarled. 'Who. Killed. My. Brother?' Remus's lip stood firm, while Voldemort watched him intently. Bellatrix looked like Christmas had come early - her bust was moving rapidly as her breathing sped up. There was a spark in her eyes, which symbolised her madness.

 

Unsatisfied with the lack of answer, Rodolphus drew his wand again. 'CRUCIO!'

 

Intense pain scorched through Remus once again. It was almost as bad as his transformations, but he would not scream. Screaming meant exposing weakness.

 

Knives tore through him. The pain kept happening. Eventually, his vision blackened.

 

_They had taken him. He was no longer with the packs. The ground that supported him was rough, like stone, and the chains that kept him were cold against his wrists and ankles. He tried howling for help when he awoke – hoping for one of the Alphas' to come and save him._

 

_He was irrational though. No one would come for him; save him. That world with his own kind was gone._

 

_Nevermore would he smell the scent of the earth; the forest. Nevermore would he see seas of green and blue - taste the wonders of nature. The colours of life had gone. Now was only black. Never would he run with his familiars on the full moon, when he could finally let go from all the stress of humanity that was thrust upon him so violently._

 

_He was trapped; forever._

 

_He looked up to see that someone had responded to his pleas: a pair of wide, heavy lidded eyes stared at him. They were not going to help him, he quickly deduced. He watched as the owner's head moved from side to side, curiously._

 

_'Hello, ickle Wolfie!' Bellatrix had whispered in a petulant voice. 'Ready to play?'_

 

Remus cried out, but in an attempt to repress it, the noise sounded more like a whimper.

 

'Crucio!'

 

_He writhed around on the floor, movement restricted by binding silver chains that burned._

 

_'Crucio!'_

 

_Bellatrix cackled as he shrieked and cried out._

 

_'What do you want from me?!' The small Remus sobbed._

 

'Tell me who killed my brother!'

 

'It was Moony!' The lycanthrope spat, before drifting out of the chamber once more.

 

_'I don't want anything from you. I just want to have some fun before My Dark Lord comes.'_

 

'Enough.'

 

_Pain burned through him once more. He could not stop it. Is this why they had taken him? To use him as a toy to satisfy their sadistic nature?_

 

_The weak werewolf. Alone._

 

'Crucio!'

 

Another yell of pain.

 

'ENOUGH!'

 

The pain evaporated, leaving the werewolf breathing heavily on the floor. It was Voldemort who had voiced the order. 'Enough.' He repeated, glaring daggers at Rodolphus. The latter immediately hung his head and lowered his wand. When the Dark wizard swept over from Bellatrix and Remus to him, Rodolphus shrunk back, scared.

 

'You will not touch the werewolf again, Lestrange. Am I clear?' Voldemort hissed.

 

'I won't. Forgive me, my Lord.' He mumbled.

 

'I can't hear you.' Voldemort spat. 'Crucio.'

 

The Death Eater cried out and fell to his knees.

 

'Forgive me, My Lord, please! I won't touch the werewolf again!'

 

'That's better.' Voldemort drawled out sarcastically, ending the curse. 'Next time, I won't be so lenient.' He waited for Rodolphus to whimper. 'Now, go fetch Wormtail. He was the one that informed me of Lupin's survival after the experiment, after all.'

 

'M-My Lord, I cannot.' The Death Eater stuttered anxiously. At Voldemort's deathly stare, he hastened to explain. 'L-Lupin, killed him. His body is down a sewer drain.'

 

Voldemort breathed heavily; vexed, but he did not show any particular loss at this piece of information.

 

'Very well.' He stated. 'It seems that he has missed out on yet another chance to prove himself. It is a shame, the rat has been very useful to me.'

 

Remus gave him a bizarre look as Voldemort talked of death as though it compared to missing the Knight Bus. Peter would not get another chance to prove himself – he was gone for good.

 

The evil wizard continued, however, unperturbed as he turned towards Bettatrix, who stared at him passionately. 'Bella, I believe you know why our furry friend is here?'

 

'Yes, my Lord!'

 

'You spent some time together last time, did you not?'

 

'Yes, indeed, we did!'

 

'You will repeat that treatment – for I know the exact extent that it was last time, despite not having ordered you as much-'

 

'Forgive me, my Lord! I could not help myself-'

 

'You are forgiven this time, Bella, for I need your violent fixation of torture to get co-operation from this one. I trust I can leave him in your hands to get answers?'

 

'Of course, Master!'

 

'Good.' Voldemort turned back and smiled cunningly at Remus. It was the most horrifying thing Remus had ever witnessed. 'See you soon, Mr Lupin.'

 

He then turned away and barked, 'Not you, Lestrange.' when the Death Eater stood to join his wife. 'You will come with me. We have an inquiry to examine at the Noble, most Ancient house of Black.'

 

At the mention of Sirius's last name, Remus perked up. He did not know what he could have achieved by that, but when he saw Bellatrix's excited look, he realised quickly his mistake. The witch flicked her wand, and with a clatter, Remus collapsed to the ground; chains still restraining him.

 

'I have some questions to ask you.' Bellatrix sang.

 

'I have nothing to say to you-'

 

'Crucio.' She interrupted, as she waved her wand excitedly.

 

Remus grunted, but that was all.

 

'That wasn't even a warm up.' The witch taunted. 'Now, are you ready to play, Wolfie?' She recited, as though it were a religion.

 

Remus looked up at her from where he was knelt on the floor. His lip was firm in defiance and his eyes were filled with burning hatred, as he stared into the eyes of the woman who had brought him years of agony. At his glare, her hyper breathing became more of a snarl. The two held eye contact for what seemed like an age, before the lycanthrope finally spoke.

 

'Bring it on, bitch.'

 

* * *

 

**4th February 1982 – 20:00**

 

James, Lily, Sirius, Regulus, Tonks and the entire Order of the Phoenix were sat around the glass dining room table within the Shrieking Shack - Harry was in one of the bedrooms, playing quietly with Neville Longbottom and the Weasley children while the meeting was being carried out. They were safe from harm there.

 

In the dining room, however, quiet seemed like a fantasy. All conversations had drowned into one. No one could get a word in, for everyone was talking over one another. It was all pure madness. When the pitch increased to breaking point though, Lily had had enough.

 

'QUIET, ALL OF YOU! THIS MEETING IS OF GREAT IMPORTANCE, SO DO ME A FAVOUR AND SHUT ALL OF YOUR FACES OR I. WILL. MAKE. YOU. SHUT YOUR FACES! Thank you.'

 

On achieving perfect silence all around the table, as well as a few scared expressions, she nodded to Dumbledore in an authoritative way (he nodded back at her with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips) before she sat back down again.

 

'That's my wife, you know.' James whispered to Dedalus Diggle, who was on his right. Overhearing this, Lily elbowed him in the side - which caused James to shriek like a pterodactyl and Dedalus to giggle in amusement. 'What was that for?!' James whispered in a high pitched voice.

 

'Being you.' She mumbled, a pleased note in her voice. James noticed this and tried to hide a smile, ere he focused his attention on the old Headmaster once more, who had commenced the meeting.

 

'Thank you for that, Mrs Potter. Hello, everyone! I'm sure most of you are wondering what has brought on this brash meeting. Well, I can tell you: today could be the day that we finally defeat Lord Voldemort and bring peace to the Wizarding world.'

 

The headmaster looked around the table. When no one spoke, he continued, 'Dr Potter came to me yesterday and informed me that himself, Mr Sirius Black and our newest member of the Order, Miss Nymphadora Tonks – most of you will know her as Sirius's cousin and Andromeda's daughter – had found two artefacts that will play an essential part in destroying Voldemort.'

 

'What kind of artefacts?' Andromeda asked, wearily. Her daughter's head was resting on her shoulder from where she sat next to her.

 

'They're called Horcruxes.' Came a hard voice from next to Lily. All eyes moved from Andromeda to Sirius, who met no ones gaze as he stared at the centre of the glass table instead. Following his words, several wizards and witches broke into fast murmuring. Above their whispers, Ted Tonks – hand clasping his daughter's on the table – spoke out.

 

'What's a Horcrux, Sirius?'

 

At this question, the room fell silent once more, eyes returning to Sirius, who - again - avoided all of them, save Ted. Whether he could feel Dumbledore giving him a warning look or not, he did not show it; nor did he act upon it.

 

'A very dark piece of magic...' He then went on to explain the basic details of that branch of magic. As he explained, comprehension dawned on every member in the room, who was not already aware of just how dark the magic was; the rest merely listened, an omniscient, melancholic expression planted on their countenances.

 

'Sirius, that's enough.' Dumbledore finally spoke when Sirius ventured into dark territory: how to make a Horcrux. Sirius did not acknowledge him with words, but did cease his explanation and looked away from Ted at last, the latter of whom had felt quite awkward and uncomfortable being the object of Sirius's penetrating glare.

 

To recover the hope from the now morbid atmosphere, Dumbledore clapped his hands together. 'Well, now that everyone's familiar with what a Horcrux is - _thank you for that, Sirius –'_

 

'You're welcome, _Sir._ '

 

 _'-_ we now need to formulate a plan so that we can finally get rid of Tom Riddle. _'_

 

'We already have a plan.' Sirius retaliated.

 

'No, Sirius, we don't! You can't just go bursting in – as you originally suggested - you'll be killed five times before you hit the floor!' Lily pressed, urgently.

 

'Potter is right, Sirius. I just abandoned my post and released all the Muggleborns and 'Blood Traitors' for this. I have not done all that for you to sabotage this opportunity just because you can't control yourself.' Regulus spoke through almost gritted teeth, from next to Sirius. He did not look at the animagus when he voiced his opinion. He kept his gaze straight ahead and sat prim and proper, as usual.

 

Sirius snorted.

 

'I was not thinking then. While you have all filled your minds with either hope and victory or apprehension and horror though, I have actually contrived a plan that could actually bring that vision of peace into action.' He countered.

 

There was a clatter, as someone stood up from their seat, sneering.

 

'Oh, deflate your head a bit, Black. Your massive ego is enough to make me feel nauseated. You people can't possibly care about what he has to say?! Black can't even think straight – let alone bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord.'

 

'Oh, shut up, Snape! You haven't even listened to what Sirius has to say, yet you're already scrutinising him. Lest it has escaped your notice, Sirius actually has a brilliant ability to use logic and apply it to everyday life – something you never quite mastered, might I add. You were always an insufferable, supercilious narcissist, even in school – walking about as if everyone else was beneath you, when in reality, it was actually the other way around, _Snivellus_.'

 

Snape's cheeks turned pink as he sat back down again. Sirius looked to his side, a bemused smirk on his face.

 

'You've had a change of heart, Reggie.' He admired. 'Finally had it with the Snake?'

 

'Shut it, Sirius.' Regulus muttered as he sat back down again (not knowing when he had risen in the first place), glaring at Snape. 'And as a matter of fact, yes. It may have escaped everyone's notice, but only Voldemort's followers call him the Dark Lord.'

 

Sirius marvelled at his brother – it was the first time he had used Voldemort's proper name.

 

'Took you long enough.'

 

'Shut. It.'

 

'What's the plan then, Padfoot.' James interrupted – there would be a time for this later.

 

'Oh right. Yes, the plan...'

 

* * *

 

**11th February 1982 – 0:13AM**

 

Pain. So much pain. Never ending; always there. And the melancholic cold: spine-chilling; insufferable. Memories kept flooding back to him.

 

_'Crucio!'_

 

_He was not sure how long he would last. However, he hoped that when he did go, it would be soon. He did not know how much more of this torment he could endure. Was it just for sadistic pleasure? Was there a purpose to his torture?_

 

_He occasionally underwent visits from Tom Riddle – one of the two people who played a part in the decision to capture him (the other being Greyback). When he visited, the guards would lay neither a finger nor a wand on him. This behaviour made Remus realize that maybe their master had not approved their unjust treatment towards him – not that this knowledge made the lycanthrope feel any better, he was just glad not to be in pain._

 

_But it was not Voldemort that visited him today – he knew that for sure. As footsteps fell upon the cold floor, Remus noticed how light and hesitant the steps were. It was midnight, after all. The Death Eaters were all asleep – only the small glow of a wall lantern enabled Remus to see anything at all._

 

_After some time of listening to the echoing footsteps, a shadow (hidden by the light) came into view._

 

_'Hello?' It spoke. The tone was small and unsure – a child's._

 

_Remus analysed the situation. The shadow was most definitely a boy – around thirteen in age – he could tell by the voice. From the stature, he could deduce that the boy was not an inch smaller than himself; his posture aided his height though – a proper Black stance. Momentarily, the lycanthrope wondered whether the boy was also a Death Eater, but quickly disposed of that idea; the hesitance in that innocent (but maybe not so innocent) voice evaporated that idea fast._

 

_Now, Remus had a decision: stay silent and let the boy leave – childhood intact – or seek out the child and find a possible ally in this hell. He argued that while the boy may show hesitance to spill his own secrets, he could gradually pull down them walls and empathise with the boy (for he surely must have suffered under his family's wrath), maybe then, Remus would not be selfish in speaking out to him. Maybe then, they could help each other._

 

_'Hello?' The boy spoke again. 'Is anyone there?'_

 

_Remus made his decision._

 

_'Hello, yes, I am here, but lower your voice or you'll wake them.' The last thing Remus wanted was for the boy to get into trouble because of him – he felt an unexplainable duty to protect him. The boy anxiously stepped out from the shadows and into the light, mere meters away from Remus._

 

_His brilliant hair was as black as the shadows around them, and rebelliously long, but Remus found it strangely beautiful. His face was angular and handsome, despite the changes of puberty he was currently undergoing. Although he was tall and scrawny (in a different way to Remus's malnourished structure), vast prominent muscles could be seen under his pyjamas – toned from what Remus could only guess as being from playing Quidditch. What really stood out to Remus though, was this boy's eyes: grey as a summer thunderstorm, they spoke of an unyielding and intelligent character, destined for great things._

 

_Suddenly, Remus felt unworthy of his presence._

 

_'Who are you?' The question startled Remus out of his thoughts. The boy had now crouched down in front of him; face to face – knees touching._

 

_'You're not scared of me?' The lycanthrope asked instead of answering, head tilting to the side. Surely the boy was not so foolhardy that he would approach a stranger this casually?_

 

_'No, of course not.' He shrugged._

 

_'Why?' Remus really was quite bewildered._

 

_'Because you're not dangerous.' He stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Remus looked at him in question, the boy continued, 'I can tell you're not dangerous, just like I can tell that you're now wondering whether I say this because I know this for a fact, or whether it is merely a guess. Well, I can tell you: I know this for a fact.' He smiled. 'Now you're wondering how I knew that; you want me to explain, but you fear that with me knowing who you are, I will lose my childhood; lose my innocence that never really existed in the first place.'_

 

 _Remus need not confirm this; the boy did not give him the chance to nevertheless. ' I know you are good; you're most definitely not dangerous... Most of the time. Let me explain: I can tell – through the kindness in your sorrow eyes – that you have unexplainable purity within your heart, despite the darkness of your clearly traumatic past and present; and you are endowed with a passionate magnanimousness towards those who deserve to be forgiven – the latter is not a certainty, but most probable, I can tell through your expressions._ _You are also uncommonly selfless and kind... But your life has been tainted by those who enjoy your pain and suffering – I know, half of those people are my ghastly relatives, who have the audacity to claim that I am the evil one. By the by, you have carried an unspoken responsibility around with you your entire life; hiding from not just the judgemental and dangerous world, but from yourself..._

 

_'Time has caught up with you though, and still you are suffering – I see the anguish in the lines on your face; the bags under your eyes. Life has not been kind to you.'_

 

_Remus considered the articulate and peculiar boy. He looked determined; accepting of anything. He sensed a thirst for adventure._

 

_'No, it hasn't.' The lycanthrope confessed, eyes dropping to his knees._

 

 _'_ _I know.' The boy stated. Remus looked back up into his grey orbs, The boy smiled in a friendly manner. 'I'm Sirius.' He finally introduced, holding out a toned hand._

 

_Remus looked at the hand, before reaching out his own, frail and skeletal one – his prominent blue and green veins caught Sirius's attention, but his smile only wavered for a moment – and the two engaged in a brief handshake. It was the first touch of warmth that the both of them had encountered in a long time. It made them feel complete... Almost._

 

 _'_ _Sirius: the brightest star in the sky.' Remus recalled out loud. The boy chuckled._

 

 _'_ _Even the moon needs a friend to shine as bright as it.' He explained. Remus looked at him in alarm. 'Yes, I know you're a werewolf. I don't care. Stereotypes are only useful in the corruption of one's soul. When I see you, I do not think werewolf, I think child; boy. A boy of whom I still do not know his name.' He winked._

 

_Remus smiled sadly and tried to avert his eyes, but Sirius would not have it, moving to meet them again. 'Let me be the star to your lonely moon?'_

 

 _The lycanthrope looked at this boy. Sirius: who came here, against all his instincts; all the odds. He deduced half of Remus's life and discovered one of his darkest secrets from one look. This Sirius, who came from a background where it was kill or be killed. Sirius, who defeated all the odds and had a pure heart – as well as an uncanny art of_ _observation. Through all of this though, Sirius: a thirteen year old who was willing to accept Remus as an ally; a friend – something he had never had before._

 

_As comprehension dawned on him, he smiled his first proper smile in years._

 

_'Remus.' He finally introduced._

 

_'Enfin, un nom pour mon amour.' Sirius whispered with a laugh to cover up the sincerity of his words - words that he would never fully understand their meaning until many years later._

 

Remus smiled contently, but the unexplainable emotion brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes, expecting to see his tormentor's ecstatic glee, or a cold cloaked creature. What he saw, however, made him realize that it was not emotion that brought him back to reality, but a release of pain, and the presence of warmth.

 

No Death Eater nor Dementor occupied the room, but he was not alone. A silvery patronus glided into the room and began to circle Remus until he felt dizzy.

 

'Padfoot...' He whispered, as he reached a hand up the touch the shining white fur.

 

There were footsteps, followed by a familiar shadow at the door. Remus recognised the figure, but was not sure whether to dismiss it as part of his dream, or believe that it could be reality. Hesitantly, he spoke out, voice hoarse.

 

'Sirius?'


	12. The Unexpected Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the rescue mission, but something doesn't seem right...

**10th February – 11:45PM**

 

Five of them flew across the dark navy sky, through the humid clouds with impeccable speed.

 

They were the knights with a mission.

 

They flattened themselves on their brooms to accelerate even more as they hastened towards the enchanted gates of Lestrange Manor, all whilst muttering counter curses along the way. They did this because they had carefully located every possible weak spot within the mansion's defences. Eventually, their first task was complete and an invisible portal had morphed into the air above the colossal metal bars. Single file, they flew into it.

 

Stage one was complete.

 

Minerva McGonagall, the head of the group of flyers, dismounted her broom just behind the gate and instructed the others to do the same. Only when everyone had two feet firmly on the ground did she address them all verbally.

 

'Right everybody, that was the easiest part.' She announced with her strong, Scottish accent, which was prominent even through the rough howling of the wind. 'The Order is currently preventing the intruder alarms from sounding, so we must be quick. Once we get inside, it'll be our job to get rid of the pawns that Lestrange will have set out. Here is what we are going to do to disable their defence: Mr and Mrs Weasley, you are to take the left hand side; Diggle and Prewitt, you will take the right. Disarm and stun any threats. While you head to your stations, the team and I will be bringing down the defences here. And when we do, everyone inside will be alerted, so you'll need to be quick if you want to surprise them; get them unexpected. If you see Voldemort though, turn back – that is an order. Do not engage in a fight. Follow Black's plan at all costs. Am I understood?'

 

The team nodded their affirmative before rushing off into the house. Minerva turned back to the still locked gate and hastily began dismantling the wards, her wand firmly in her hand and her stance professional.

 

She gave a flourish and began...

 

* * *

 

Gideon and Dedalus crept through the house soundlessly – taking care to tread lightly to prevent anyone distinguishing a disturbance within the mansion. The Weasley's had taken the upstairs located in the left wing, leaving the duo to search downstairs. Thus far, they had found nothing. The uncanny silence spoke louder than words to them; it told them that something did not seem right.

 

They were slightly reassured when a low noise sounded from the walk-in pantry between the kitchen and dining room though. The assurance came from the idea that their presence there was actually going to accumulate to something. And so they crept on, their wands grasped tightly in their hands. They turned the corner to find (not what they originally thought of: a pantry) a dark, narrow corridor, as well as their first opponents. Luckily for them though, it was neither Voldemort nor the Lestranges that they met, but two unmasked Death Eaters: Macnair and Avery.

 

The two were regarded by the Order as being of low skill type, and so the reason for them being at the mansion was, as of yet, unclear to them. The Death Eaters were laying in front of a locked wooden door; they seemed to have been guarding something, albeit they had abandoned their determination to fill out that particular duty and had instead fallen asleep on their watch.

 

'Brilliant!' Dedalus whispered to his partner, who was crouched down to meet his unusually short height. 'Although... This is horribly cliché.' He then added as an afterthought.

 

'Don't complain, lets just tie them up.' Gideon whispered back. He rose his wand and muttered, 'Petrificus Totalus. Incarcerous.'

 

Twice he did this, until both Death Eaters were frozen and bound.

 

They noticed that both of their prisoners were now awake, and that their eyes were burning holes through the two Order members, who hastily stepped over them and unlocked the door, all while paying little mind to their glares.

 

The task of unlocking the door was elementary, and they gained entrance in less than half a minute.

 

When they opened the door, a darkened stairway, leading to what looked like a Dungeon, met them. They looked sideways at each other in question, and both nodded their affirmative at the same time. Ready for what was awaiting them below, they strode down the stone stairs (careful not to emit any echoes from their movement) and into the dark. The further they progressed, the colder the atmosphere grew.

 

When they skidded to a halt, there was only the dim light of a taper that allowed them to observe the moving shadows that were stationed down the corridor ahead of them. At the end was a silver cage door that closed off what looked like a stone chamber. Immediately, Dedalus and Gideon recognised the shadows as Dementors – the chill of the corridor made that deduction fairly obvious though, and so their presence was unsurprising to the Order members.

 

They also realised that the Dementors had not yet approached the pair. They noticed how the creatures showed an interest in their presence, and yet did not actively pursue them – it seemed as though they did not know whether the two wizards' were friends or foes to their masters.

 

'Dedalus, go back up and send a Patronus to Sirius. Tell him what we've found and how we should approach this.'

 

The tiny wizard did not spare any time to respond verbally and instead sped back up the stairs to carry it out. When his echoing footsteps faded, Gideon turned back to the Dementors and rolled up his sleeves. 'Right, let's see what we have here then... Expecto Patronum.'

 

* * *

 

**Meanwhile, Outside...**

 

From the other side of the gate, the others watched and waited for their signal – disillusionment charms were placed on each member of the Order. When they saw McGonagall commence her assignment, they all raised their wands and joined her in her mission, muttering incarnations under their breath.

 

Reasonably far in this procedure, a small silvery wisp of what looked like smoke could be spotted, as it left the house. It glided down the path and literally ran through the gates. As it came into view, the three central members of the group (Sirius, James and Regulus) quickly recognised it as a Patronus - a chipmunk, to be specific. It came to a stop in front of the Auror and drew a deep breath.

 

'Sirius. Dementors guarding something - possibly Romulus. Pantry just off the kitchen. Awaiting orders. Diggle!' The last part came out as a squeak, and was followed by a small puff as the Chipmunk vanished. Sirius did not seem to externally react to the message; he merely stared at the spot in which it had dissipated in front of him.

 

Inside though, he was ecstatic: Romulus was the code name for-

 

'Remus..' He silently whispered.

 

'What are you going to do, Padfoot?' James questioned, loudly, through the commotion of spells being fired at the gate.

 

Sirius looked up, back at the ancient house, with more vigour than before, and flourished his wand almost violently, sending an impressive amount of force towards his target.

 

'I'm going in there. I'll transform into Padfoot. They can't see me anyway. Stick to the plan, Prongs. Tonks dismembered the cup, and you destroyed the diadem and Moony. All that's left is Voldemort. Dumbledore chose this time and date for a reason. Voldemort should be in the house somewhere.'

 

He did not voice his internal concerns as to why Voldemort had not caught onto the plan yet. Surely, a wizard of his knowledge would know when his safe house is being broken into?

 

He shook his head. 'If you find him though, let me know immediately.' Sirius then smiled half-heartedly – not that his friend could see him - and added, tone sincere, 'Don't do anything stupid, James.'

 

'Same goes for you, Siri.' He smiled back, somehow knowing that although Sirius could not see him, he would know - which he did. After a pause though, James realised something was not quite right, and questioned, 'Are you afraid?'

 

Sirius briefly pondered how he would answer that.

 

'I suppose, in a way, yes.' He admitted.

 

'But you excel in all your magical abilities. You have nothing to be afraid of, surely?'

 

'Well, I think that you know me well enough, Prongs, to understand that I am by no means a nervous man - energetic, maybe...' He heard his friend snort in reply. 'But at the same time, it is stupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognise danger when it is close upon you.'

 

James did not reply, but clearly, he was processing his friend's explanation.

 

A few minutes passed, and the steel bars of the archaic gate shattered, and collapsed to the ground with a loud, vibrating crash. At small victory, the Consulting Auror quickly pocketed his wand and turned towards the stag animagus, despite the fact that his best friend was still currently hidden under his invisibility cloak.

 

'Good luck.' He whispered to thin air.

 

'And you.' Was its reply.

 

Upon hearing a commotion within the house, Sirius hastily transformed into a familiar, shaggy black dog. Unfortunately for him though, the disillusionment charm had evaporated, so he was very much visible. He shook his head, though, and lost no time in bounding towards the mansion - determination evident in his breathing as he panted hard, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

 

He passed McGonagall at the gates, and noticed that the witch merely stared at him, and did not express any sort of astonishment towards his presence.

 

'Go steady, Mr Black.' He heard her mutter knowingly.

 

He barked once in response, and journeyed on, not questioning how the transfiguration teacher knew that it was him.

 

He nudged open the door with his nose, and his claws skittered on the slippery, tiled hallway as he lost his balance upon entrance. He quickly lived up to his name though, and regained his balance, which caused his movement's noise to become padded. He ran to the pantry between the kitchen and dining room.

 

When he arrived, he saw the corridor, the open wooden door, and the two bound Death Eaters on the floor.

 

Looking at them with big, grey eyes, the canine had an idea.

 

'Stupefy.' He thought twice. Non-verbal, wandless magic in an animagus form may appear impossible to achieve in theory, but when it comes to application, Sirius Black had no boundaries. His theory miraculously proved successful when their eyes closed against their will. Feeling very pleased with himself, Sirius then transformed back and took out his wand - not feeling the draining effects often associated with after performing such high level magic.

 

'Wish someone could've seen that...' He muttered before pursuing further. When he came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, Sirius found what would usually have been a very dark, damp room was infested with white lights. A lynx and a Chipmunk paced around the room proudly as three Dementors cowered above them just below the large ceiling. The sources of the magic (Gideon and Dedalus) were at the end of the corridor; a metal cage door stood just behind them.

 

Sirius already knew who was trapped in the room behind it.

 

'Sirius!' It was Gideon who had spoken. 'Come across, the Dementors can't do anything.'

 

The Lynx ran forward and positioned itself at Sirius's side, while the Chipmunk protected the other two. Despite knowing that the lynx was a trustworthy method of protection, Sirius waved his wand to cast his own patronus. But instead of enhancing the occupants of the room's protection further, he ordered the silvery Padfoot forward, past the other two, and through the metal door.

 

When he noticed that Gideon and Dedalus were looking at him curiously, Sirius quickly strode towards them, the Lynx following closely.

 

'What do you want us to do now, Mr Black?' The smaller of the two spoke, when the Auror had approached them.

 

'Join the battle, for it must have already begun. We shattered the gate, but while doing so, we must have woken the entire castle.'

 

The duo nodded.

 

'Will you be all right on your own, Sirius?' Gideon asked, as he placed a hand on the animagus's shoulder.

 

'Yes, I'll be fine. Now, go. Follow the plan.'

 

'Of course.' Dedalus squeaked, and the two of them hurried towards the staircase.

 

Sirius watched them go, before quickly glancing up at the Dementors. He inhaled deeply, then turned his full attention back towards the silver lock which entrapped the occupant on the other side.

 

'Alohomora!'

 

* * *

 

The Weasleys' heard the clatter of the gate as it collapsed, and quickly hurried across the upstairs corridor to hide just behind what could only be Rodolphus' door. When the wizard ran out of the door, screaming obscenities down the corridor (not noticing the two trespassers), Mr Weasley took hold of the opportunity and raised his wand.

 

'Impedimenta!'

 

The Death Eater slowed, but Arthur had not finished yet. 'Ebublio!'

 

Immediately, an extraordinarily large bubble formulated around Rodolphus, successfully trapping him. He floated over to the couple, fists banging on the surface in a vain attempt to shatter his confinement. Molly and Arthur watched him silently until he gave in to defeat and sank to the bottom of his prison. He looked up at them with hawk-like eyes; his teeth were clenched in loathing.

 

'How dare you defile this house with your presence, Scum. Why are you here?' He snarled. 'You tarnished the purity of your blood and ruined your family's name by fraternizing with _muggles, Mudbloods_ and other dirt. How dare you come - what do you want?'

 

Mrs Weasley left no time for other questions or insults, and strode over to the bubble and popped it. The Death Eater fell to the ground with a loud thud, but before he could act on his temporary freedom, the witch tied him up with a flick of her wand. Thick ropes formulated out of nothing and flew forward to bind him securely. Every movement she made; every incarnation she performed, was executed with practised albeit vexed precision. Her face was stern and dangerous as she looked at Rodolphus, knelt at her feet.

 

'Never talk shit about my family, Lestrange, or else I'll prove that your wife isn't the only one who has a talent for leaving people at her mercy. Am I understood? Good.' She finished before he could answer, and took out a bronze flask, which contained what could only be some sort of potion. 'Now, I'm assuming you know what Veritaserum is?'

 

When the Death Eater nodded reluctantly, Mrs Weasley removed the lid by magic and then tipped it down Rodolphus' throat (Mr Weasley had forced the man's mouth open with a quick spell). Admittedly, Arthur may not be as eager as his wife to perform these particular branches of magic, but he did whole-heartedly agree to help out in any way that he cold – the last thing he wanted was for harm to come to any of his family members.

 

The potion had taken effect immediately: Rodolphus was no longer complaining, and he breathed heavily as he waited for his first question. Mrs Weasley stood up straight and turned her head to look at her husband, who nodded back in agreement. Both of them, then turned to their hostage, and commenced their questioning.

 

'Where is Bellatrix?' Mr Weasley asked first.

 

Rodolphus laughed madly; the sound echoed of the large corridor walls and rang through his captors ears almost patronisingly.

 

'She's not here!' He sang.

 

The two Weasleys were taken aback by the answer, but pursued their questioning nevertheless.

 

'Where is your Master? Where is You Know Who?' Mrs Weasley asked.

 

The Death Eater's laugh was quieter this time. His deranged smile never met his disenchanted eyes – which were fearful of what his mouth would reveal. He reached out a gradually paling finger through the ropes and beckoned them closer.

 

Cautiously, they complied. When Rodolphus whispered the answer, Molly gasped and Arthur was stunned into silence. 'No...' The former whispered, 'Not tonight – Dumbledore said it wouldn't be!' She turned to her husband, who remained speechless; neither confirming nor denying her words.

 

Rodolphus laughed again, tears formed in his still stoic black eyes. The Death Eater cackled and cackled and watched as a silvery mist passed across the corridor and down the archaic stairs.

 

Down towards the pantry.

 

* * *

 

When Sirius burst in, the first sight he took in was that of Remus, who was bound in silver chains, which ran from the wall of the Lestranges' torture chamber. He came to a hasty stop and simply stared.

 

If Sirius had thought that Remus had looked ill before, it had nothing on what one month of torture had done to him. The silver shackles had burnt through his skin, almost reaching the bone. There were stains of blood spread around his gaunt face, baggy clothes, even in his hair. Patches of grey now outweighed the brown in his unwashed hair, and small, rough stubble had formed around his very prominent jaw.

 

Sirius held eye contact with the lycanthrope for what seemed like an age, and saw how one of those beautiful emerald eyes had clouded over; unseeing. Sirius deduced that it was early traumatic cataracts, caused by blunt ocular trauma - it seemed Bellatrix had spared no mercy this time. The other eye was the darkest green possible, as if all light had vanished from it.

 

It was an excruciating sight for the animagus to witness and he did not know how to react until a single tear ran down his cheek involuntarily. Sirius quickly wiped the lone stray away with a silent mutter of 'What the hell?' and proceeded to run towards the chained up lycanthrope. As he came to a stop, he collapsed on his knees in front of him.

 

'Remus! Remus, are you all right?!' He asked urgently, as he broke the bonds that bound the werewolf to his prison.

 

'Sirius? Is it really you, or just a memory; a trick?' Was the almost dream-like response.

 

'Yes, it's me. It's Sirius.' He pressed. When Remus seemed hesitant, he further indulged, 'I found you locked in the basement at my parents house at the age of thirteen. Afterwards, I visited you whenever I could. I became Padfoot at fifteen and spent every full moon with you when I was home. I did so until the day we ran away... Before I thought I had lost you.'

 

'Padfoot? Sirius... It is you...' Remus laughed in disbelief and dipped his head – as if having an inside joke with himself. 'It really is you. I thought-' He shook his head and looked up at the animagus, who stared right back; his eyes appeared to be filled with a sort of emotion for a few brief seconds, before it was gone again – so quick that Remus was convinced that he had imagined it. 'You came for me...'

 

'Oh course I bloody did, Lupin! I am honestly offended at the amazement present in the tone of your words.'

 

Remus sighed with mirth, his countenance was more relaxed now that he knew he was safe - for with Sirius, he had always felt protected and liberated almost.

 

When the atmosphere grew serious and sentimental though, Sirius looked away from the lycanthrope and at the floor instead. 'I thought you had died.'

 

There was silence, until a distant voice replied,

 

'I did.'

 

Sirius looked back up and saw the sincerity in the other's face. 'You've not been up to your usual, sharp self lately, Mr Black.' The werewolf lightly joked to lessen the sensitive aura of the chamber.

 

The animagus did not laugh though, for questions plagued his mind. Remus sensed this, it seemed, because before Sirius could speak, he continued, 'I was given a choice: go on or stay behind... You must have had some influence on me, Sirius, because it seems that, despite everything, I chose to live.'

 

They looked at each other, and silently communicated what could never be said. Sirius continued to look at Remus in astonishment, even when the latter realised that now was not the time for sentiment.

 

Now was a time for action. And Sirius should not be here, not now! Not while the danger lies elsewhere...

 

He grasped Sirius's wrists and forced him out of his stupor. 'Never mind that, though, what are you doing here, Sirius!'

 

The animagus scoffed.

 

'You hit your head lately? I would have thought that my presence here was obvious. The entire Order is here to rescue you, while simultaneously bring down Voldemort.' He answered confidently. This aplomb demeanour lasted mere seconds, before it was wiped clean off by Remus's morbid expression of worry and apprehension. 'What?' He asked, hoping that his previous fears (brewed from his concerns about how facile the mansion was to break into) were not about to be confirmed.

 

'It's Voldemort. He's-'

 

But Remus was interrupted by a glimmer from down the corridor. At that moment, a large, silvery bear gracefully bounded towards them. As it came closer, its light mixed with Padfoot's already bright illumination. But despite the warmth of the room, when Mrs Weasley spoke, her voice was foreboding and panicked.

 

'Sirius! We've captured Rodolphus. He's spilled that Bellatrix and Voldemort aren't here. Minerva, Gideon and Dedalus have searched the house and he's right! You've got to hurry...'

 

But the rest of the message was drowned out, not only by Rodolphus' mad cackles in the background, but by a new voice that rang from down the corridor.

 

'Sirius! Sirius! Sirius!'

 

A large, valiant stag galloped towards them and added its own silvery essence to the room. James, the duo recognised. 'Voldemort's not here, the Order has searched the entire grounds. Have you found Remus? Is he okay? Please hurry though, it's an emergency. Dumbledore was bloody wrong. Meet me at the gate ASAP, and hurry!'

 

At the denouement of the message, Mrs Weasley and James' patronus' vanished into wisps of smoke, leaving only the crackling taper and Padfoot as sources of light. The two occupants of the room stared from Padfoot's pacing to each other. A desolate, omniscient look swam amongst the expressive emerald, and an anxious one flew with the storm. Of the two, Remus spoke first, after he chose his words carefully.

 

'Sirius... Have you cast the Fidelius yet?'

 

Comprehension dawned on Sirius's face and in seconds, he was on his feet. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and looked around, agitated and unsettled. He deliberately avoided answering the question and proceeded with his own, directed towards the lycanthrope.

 

'Can you stand?'

 

On receiving no answer as confirmation that the charm had not yet been performed, Remus's eyes widened and hastily, he tried to stand. He placed his hands on the stone wall for support as his legs shook, but forbye that, he achieved his task. It was short lived, however, for when he stepped away from the wall, his knees buckled and he fell forwards.

 

Automatically, out of instinct, Sirius stepped in and caught him before his kneecaps could shatter on the firm stone floor. Remus's bony fingers gripped Sirius's upper arms almost painfully as he tried to pick himself up again, but Sirius did not mind – the contact showed that not all of Remus's strength had vanished during his imprisonment.

 

Sirius then muttered, forlorn, 'I guess that's a no...'

 

Remus looked up from trying to get his feet to steady themselves on the ground, and to Sirius once more. The clouded eye was indeed unsettling for the animagus to look at, but the determination present in the other was moving.

 

'Are Lily and Harry at Godric's Hollow?' He asked, urgently.

 

'Hogwarts.' Sirius answered swiftly. Before Remus could pursue his questioning further though, he continued, 'You should rest now, Rem.'

 

'No, let me try again. I will not be the liability any more!' He commanded.

 

All of Sirius's protests were silenced by a glare, and with a strenuous and demanding effort, he pushed away from the Auror and once again, used the wall to support him as he got to his feet. Just executing that action caused him to break into a sweat, but his lip and jaw were firm and he pursued his task further, taking one, two, three steps forward – denying and refusing all the help Sirius offered.

 

When Sirius grasped his hand through a silent compromise, Remus squeezed back, but instructed him, 'Don't wait for me, Siri. Go and find James – he needs you more than I do. I can get out of here fine.'

 

Sirius scoffed, but his eyes betrayed the suspicion he had. The suspicion that maybe the lycanthrope was right.

 

'You do need m-'

 

'Sirius, stop. Look at me!' His grip on Sirius's hand tightened as the lycanthrope came to a halt, urging the animagus to listen. Sirius found his eyes and Remus spoke, conviction in every syllable he articulated. 'You know what's happening, you're just in denial. You've got to acknowledge it, Sirius! Voldemort's at Hogwarts. He's coming for Lily and Harry.'

 

The taper extinguished when Padfoot vanished into the cold air, leaving them in the dark and bitter cold chamber. The warmth of their clasped hands was all they had, and Sirius was intent on getting them out.

 

He had to get to James.

 

He gripped Remus's hand tighter and rushed forwards. When they exited the room, they were met by several Dementors, gliding down from the ceiling towards the duo. Remus barely held back a whimper, and Sirius's face was white as a sheet.

 

One of them spoke next, but neither of them were sure who.

 

'Run!'


	13. The Final Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle.

The warning signals and various patronuses alerted the Order members that their current mission was nothing but efficacious. Shortly after hearing this, the Order had assembled to await for either Dumbledore or Sirius's next orders. They were stood in front of the mansion in large groups while they waited; sans Minerva and James, who stood by the front gate, the latter nervously jumped on the spot in anticipation while he waited for Sirius; the former watched with compassion.

 

These last few minutes had been bleary to James...

 

What he did remember though was Minerva calling him out in the midst of the raid and informing him of the situation. James remembered that, upon hearing the news, he had immediately collapsed to his knees as a wave of nausea consumed him - the Transfiguration Professor had taken heed of this and placed a calming hand on his shoulder, all while gently reminding him that all was not lost, and that there was a good chance that Lily and Harry were still alive.

 

James, realising that the Professor was indeed right, proceeded to send his patronus to Sirius to inform him of the events, and tell him to hurry up, for Merlin's sake!

 

Unfortunately for James though, Dumbledore appeared first, and told them all to abandon the plan and meet again at the Shrieking Shack immediately. Upon his words, everyone had quickly disapparated, save James and Minerva, both of whom had something vulgar they wanted to say to the Headmaster about his botched up timing. But they never got the chance for he had hurriedly vanished.

 

* * *

 

**_~Brief recollection of the 4th_ _February~_ **

 

_The Order listened intently to Sirius as he explained his plan._

 

_'Now that we've settled where Voldemort is currently staying, we need to plan when we're going to attack. Personally, I think that if we play our cards right then we could save Remus, and possibly bring down Voldemort this very night-'_

 

_'Pardon me, Sirius, but I think it would be more prudent if we left it until the 10th, at least.' Dumbledore interrupted._

 

_The animagus ceased his explanation to look at the Headmaster incredulously._

 

_'Sir, with all due respect, I think you can clearly see that there is nothing wrong with the plan; the rest of the Order have a new found vigour in them also. We are certainly more than ready to carry out the attack as soon as possible.'_

 

_'I agree with Sirius.' Lily expressed, surprising both of them. 'I think that the longer we leave it, the more danger we will put Remus in. Sir, think of what Voldemort could do to - more than just Remus - the entire country in one day. Surely, we should carry out the plan immediately. There are never any flaws with Sirius, never; and there are none now!'_

 

_'I agree with you on that, Mrs Potter, but clearly you can see that we take a big risk in rushing this.' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled almost hypnotically. Sirius almost felt nauseated. 'Forgive me, but age is foolish when it underestimates the power of youth, but undoubtedly you can understand why I am cautious. We need more time to prepare. Please leave it until the 10th, Sirius; it is all I will ask of you.'_

 

_'Why the 10th, though?' Regulus asked. His eyes narrowed as his gaze flickered from Snape to Dumbledore._

 

_'_ _Because I have received information from a source that Voldemort is plotting an attack on the Order on the 11th. If we make the first move on the 10th, they will be unprepared and easier to incarcerate...'_

 

_Dumbledore went into detail for a little while longer after that, but neither James, nor Sirius listened. Instead, they silently communicated with each other. Sirius had no choice but to accept Dumbledore's pledge; it was the only way to satisfy him. But it was begrudgingly that Sirius did so._

 

_'Fine, fine. We'll attack on the night of the 10th...'_

 

* * *

 

Minerva only reluctantly agreed to leave when James had assured her several times that he would be all right until Sirius got back.

 

'Give Dumbledore hell from me.' He called after her.

 

After she disapparated, James waited alone for several minutes. The cold chill of the wind stabbed him and numbed him until even his tears froze in his eyes. He sniffed to compose himself, but if it was not for the sound of pebbles shifting from behind him, this composure would have inevitably failed him. He ceased his nervous shifting and spun around to watch as Sirius hastily walked towards him, supporting a limping, but otherwise salvageable Remus Lupin. James met the duo halfway, and immediately put his arm around the lycanthrope to help steady him.

 

'Are you all right, Remus?' He asked, sincerely.

 

The fact that James had momentarily disregarded his own life-threatening dilemma to ask an almost stranger of his well-being was one of the many qualities James Potter possessed that continued to baffle, albeit fascinate Sirius. Despite his own lack of familiarity - or passionate interest for that matter - with human nature, he always admired his friend's skill with regard to the subject. Even out of the corner of his eye, Sirius could see that Remus was touched by James' question.

 

'Yes, I think I will be. Thank you.' The werewolf answered, straining his face into a genuine smile. After James noticed the smile, he relaxed his feigned, brave face into a more serious expression. Remus observed his unease, and continued, 'I think I'll be all right apparating – I know you need to get to your family quickly.'

 

'Are you sure?' Despite the courteous question, the lack of hesitant pause in James response betrayed his anxiousness, and acted almost as a plea for Remus to confirm in answer.

 

'Yes.'

 

Apace, James took hold of Sirius as well as the lycanthrope, and disapparated the three of them away from the mansion, and to Honeydukes sweet shop's cellar. Although Lily and Harry were residing at Hogwarts, the castle was covered in numerous protection charms; and they had figured that they would not be able to directly apparate there. After all, Hogwarts was supposedly the safest place in England, and almost impossible to break into.

 

Unless you were either the Marauders or Lord Voldemort...

 

James made Remus lean fully against Sirius when they reached their destination. At the time, Remus had allowed himself to relax, but only while James opened the secret passageway. The time he had for his recovery period was painfully short, but it was enough. The werewolf felt that he was steadily regaining his strength, and internally, he thanked his quick healing process; one of the only positives that came with his lycanthropy.

 

When James beckoned them forward, Remus removed himself from Sirius's support (still grasping the Auror's hand to reassure him that he was fine and knew what he was doing) and ventured into the tunnel. It was dark and damp, but with a quick wave of James' wand, the tapers along the walls lit up, and allowed them to see clearly.

 

'Sirius and I found this passage while we were still at school.' James told Remus as they strode on. He only made idle conversation in a vain attempt to calm himself. Remus and Sirius noticed this and played along. 'Third year, we accidentally got locked in that cellar back there – it was our first time in Hogsmeade... legally... But that part's not important.'

 

Both Sirius and Remus joined James when he laughed nervously. 'Anyway, while we were trapped, Sirius deduced - quite cleverly, might I add - that the loose stone in the floor looked overly suspicious.' He nodded to his friend, who looked at him smugly. 'Naturally, it turned out to be a secret passageway. After that, we had an unlimited supply of chocolate and sweets.'

 

Sirius chuckled, while Remus snorted in amusement.

 

'You never told me about this escape, Sirius.' He pointed out, thoughtfully. 'And here I thought that you had _bought_ all that chocolate.' He raised an eyebrow, as he shared what looked like an inside joke with Sirius.

 

 _'What chocolate?'_ James thought to himself.

 

'Yes, well, what's the harm in not telling you that the chocolate I brought you was stolen.' Sirius defended (half answering James' question). Maybe it was the light, but James could have sworn that his best friend was blushing. 'Anyway, from what I can remember, you were not perturbed by it at the time, and seemed to enjoy it.'

 

James grinned.

 

'You gave your chocolate to Remus, Padfoot? When was this?' He asked, smile never faltering.

 

'None of your business, Potter.' Sirius replied, while Remus laughed - although James noticed that there was some sadness to it.

 

James turned to face them for the first time, ready to retort about just how much it was his business, but, unfortunately for him, the moment he had chosen to look away from the path ahead was the particular moment he unknowingly walked straight into the stone wall at the end of the tunnel. He fell on his bony arse with a painful thud that caused Remus to flinch and Sirius to snort.

 

'Not up to your usual standard of dismount, Prongs.' The latter commented, thoughtfully.

 

Steadily, James got up to open the one-eyed witch passageway exit. He rubbed his bum, while he simultaneously mumbled something under his breath about just where Sirius could dismount his opinions.

 

As James used his strength, borne from playing years of Quidditch, to open the entrance, the stone scraped against the rough floor to reveal a glowing corridor of Hogwarts. Instantly, the trio scrambled out – the atmosphere and mindset of actually being in the castle motivated them with a new found vigour. All their previous shenanigans evaporated – it was only Lily and Harry on their minds now. They checked for any signs of movement or evidence of a break in, but found nothing along the third floor; and so they made their way to Gryffindor tower – which was where Lily had informed James was the place she and Harry would be.

 

However, when they ventured to the Gryffindor common room, they found no trace of them. The entire room had been left undisturbed. The trio stood there, in the middle of the common room, for a moment. Sirius and Remus were contemplating their next move, while James comprehended the realistic reasoning for their current situation: either Lily and Harry had willingly left the tower, unaware of the danger; or they never made it there in the first place. Either way, it terrified James, who, at this point, could not hold back anymore. His eyes went glassy, and his vision blurred when he witnessed a gust of wind blow down from the chimney and extinguish the fire that burnt in the fireplace.

 

James silently hoped then that the fire in his life had not gone out too.

 

The sound of the howling wind against the cracking of flames on wood reminded Sirius to not let his friend lose hope, and so he urged them all out of the common room to continue looking.

 

'Come on, James. They'll be here somewhere.' Remus soothed, as Sirius gently nudged James away from the common room. Fortunately for them, it did not take much convincing to herd James away from Gryffindor tower, and so they set off again.

 

They ran through the castle; their lonely footsteps bounced off the stone walls, and echoed through the empty corridors. They passed portrait after portrait, wherein each of their occupants glanced at them: some with curiosity, others with annoyance at having been woken up by their thunderous footsteps.

 

Sirius lead the trio, his determination to solve the puzzle and save his family was what made him stride faster and stronger. He momentarily looked back to check that his friends were still following him, but he trusted them enough to know that they would call him if a new piece of information was discovered. After checking that nothing was amiss, he turned his attention forwards, and strode on.

 

James followed closely, but did not run with the same speed as his friend. Granted, he was more emotional than Sirius, but that did not help him in this instance. Doubt had been placed in his mind since he had heard of Voldemort's real plan, but what hit James the hardest was the fact that he did not know whether his family were still alive; and as much as he hoped, hoped for them to be safe, there was a sadness about him; a weight which he could not run from. The dreaded thought that maybe his family were already taken from him. The thought of never feeling their warmth again, seeing the light in their eyes when they smiled and laughed. The thought that his memories of them would stay memories, and that they would be all he had left. He could not let that happen.

 

James would not let that happen.

 

He ran with tears in his eyes whilst he begged for Sirius to tell him where they were going, but to no avail. Even though he knew the direction in which they were running in, he could not bring himself to confirm nor disprove it himself with certainty. He needed Sirius to tell him blatantly. All he knew now was that there was a chance that wherever they were going, it could aid them in saving his family.

 

And he had to hold on to that.

 

Following him and Sirius was Remus, who had almost recovered fully by this point. He did not know what kept him going, but he did know that he was still vulnerable and weak. Despite this though, something pushed him on. Whether it be Sirius, James, Lily and Harry, or merely the urge to destroy Voldemort and Bellatrix, he thanked this hidden strength, and exerted all his energies so that he could be of any use when the time came.

 

Vaguely, as he ran through the corridors of a school he had never had the chance to go to, he felt bitter. The aura of magic that the castle radiated was not supposed to be experienced for the first time in these circumstances, and somehow, the lycanthrope felt cheated out of this ethereal haven. He noticed how the other two paid no mind to the moving portraits, or the befuddled ghosts that watched them pass. They were unperturbed by the greatness of this castle due to their long exposure to this surreal world throughout their childhood, and Remus suddenly felt unworthy; out of place. Alone. He never had the chance to grow up in this luxury. His friends had spent their lives in the light, while he had spent his in the shadows; in the darkness.

 

Was it selfish to feel this shining moment of petulant unfairness? He wondered.

 

But there was no time for his brimming sense of self-pity to make a comeback. Remus repressed that little internal desire he had felt for the past years, and concentrated on mattered most: saving Lily and Harry.

 

And so he pushed on and told himself that no harm would befall these people – these innocent people – while he was around. While he lived and breathed, he would do everything in his power to make sure Harry, Lily, James and Sirius made it out alive. Even if it meant contending against his torturers: the devil and his bitch. He would do it in a heartbeat if it gave his friends even the slightest chance of survival.

 

They endured further, but after having searched the Headmaster's office and the infirmary, they found no indication of the two Potters' ever being there. Sirius must know where Lily and Harry could be, Remus thought. He saw the animagus look over his shoulder as he ran, and he saw him take in the look of despondence on James' face that came from the lack of results that they had achieved.

 

The pressure was on, and Sirius became almost frantic as his mind seemed to be searching for the answer.

 

'If Lily knew Voldemort would be coming, then she would have known that there would be no place for her and Harry to hide indefinitely.' He explained. For some reason, this did not make James feel any better, and so Sirius elaborated. 'What I mean is: if she knew, she would go to a place only her family would know of. That is, if Voldemort is actually here yet-'

 

But he was interrupted by a faint, piercing scream of pain that had come from the castle grounds. James' blood ran cold and his face drained of all colour. Lily and Harry were not far away, and they were in trouble... But definitely alive. James was frozen in place, but he looked around helplessly for the source of the scream, becoming more and more frustrated at the lack of results he found. Thankfully for him, the other two were more pragmatic about it.

 

Remus glanced out of the nearest window. His eyes were fixed on something the other two could not see; he gulped explicitly at what he saw.

 

'Sirius... Look.' He spoke quietly, but clearly. At his words, Sirius hastened over to the window and mimicked Remus's look of terror. Not wanting to miss out on any piece of information that would help them get to Lily, James looked out too. Instantly, he gasped.

 

'Lily!' He cried.

 

But his wife did not hear him call. The head of flaming, red hair, which was visible just 20 metres from the Whomping Willow, was illuminated by the colourful sparks that shot out of her wand repeatedly. She seemed encased in a duel with Bellatrix, who – strangely enough – was alone. Lily was not alone, however. The stag animagus noticed with horror, that while she duelled with her right hand, her left arm clutched a shrieking Harry, whose screams could also be heard, even from where the trio were positioned at the third floor corridor window.

 

'Harry...' James almost wailed.

 

'Come on, Prongs!' Sirius shook his best friend gently, albeit hurriedly. 'We have to get to them, don't we?'

 

James swallowed thickly and nodded, hastily. The three abruptly left the corridor and followed the short cut that they had taken so many times during their school days. As they ran out onto the grounds, they could hear the blood curdling echoes of Bellatrix, Lily and Harry's screams.

 

Close, James thought. So close to them.

 

When in range, the animagus shot a stupefy at Bellatrix, but it was quickly reflected by the witch, who was now aware of their presence. But instead of becoming anxious about the unfair number she now contended against, she laughed in her usual, deranged manner that personified her madness, and turned back to shoot more curses at Lily, whose attention was now driven towards the trio as well as her duel.

 

Sirius and James were confused at Bellatrix's blasé approach towards their presence. Remus, however, realised the cause of her laughter. He tugged Sirius's jacket hard and turned him to face the shadow looming along the grounds. As he glided into the light, the lithe, surreal form of the Dark Lord himself came into view.

 

'You and James take him. I'll help Lily.' The lycanthrope told the animagus, before taking off to join the witch as she battled.

 

Sirius looked towards James, who was torn between the terror of seeing Voldemort again, and his family: alive but in peril. When Remus ran to join Lily, he made to follow, but Sirius held him back. James struggled against his best friend's hold on him, and thrashed around to break free from Sirius's grip.

 

'Get the fuck off me, Padfoot.' He ordered through gritted teeth.

 

Sirius shook his head, and urged him to listen.

 

'Look, Remus and Lily have got Bellatrix. We need to take care of Voldemort, or else we may as well Avada ourselves now.'

 

Success found him, for James had started to listen to his words. Taking the opportunity, he pressed on, 'Tonks destroyed the cup, you killed Moony, and Lily shattered the diadem. He's mortal now. This may be our only chance, Prongs, and there's no one here I would rather have beside me to take on the most flagitious and diabolical wizard to ever walk the Earth with, than my best friend and brother: you.'

 

He watched James' expression turn from worry to fear to apprehensive determination, and looked at him intently. His final words articulated with sincerity, 'Save the world with me, Prongs?'

 

James gazed back and nodded. He managed a nervous smile before he took his position beside the animagus. James raised his right hand, while Sirius levelled it with his left. They completed each other as they left no areas of weakness. When Voldemort approached them, he laughed patronisingly.

 

'You think you can beat me? You think _you_ stand even the slightest chance against _me:_ the greatest wizard who ever lived.'

 

'You need to get out more, Tom.' Sirius drawled out. 'I don't think that the "greatest wizard who ever lived" would ever make such a ridiculous remark.'

 

Voldemort tilted his head and hissed. He then responded by flicking his wand to send a particularly nasty curse towards, not Sirius, but James, who was caught unaware, due to the burning hatred he felt as he clutched his wand in an almost death-like grip. Luckily for him, though, Sirius brought himself in front of him and reflected the curse with ease.

 

Voldemort growled.

 

'You're a fool, Black.' He snarled.

 

When Sirius looked through him - as though he was not even slightly intimidated by the wizard - Voldemort chose a different strategy. 'It's a shame your family aren't all like you, Sirius - so different from your brother, who proved to be such a disappointment. Think of how proud your parents would be if they could see you now, honoured with the Dark Lord's approval.' Sirius sneered in response, but Voldemort continued composed, 'I can offer you a place where your talents can expand to their true potential. With me, you would have no setbacks, like you do now with these blood traitors, mudbloods, and half-breeds.'

 

'These people are my family and I would rather die than join you.' Sirius spat.

 

'Your family?' Voldemort asked to test him. 'Potter maybe, but Lupin? He is not your family; he is not worthy of such brilliance.'

 

'He means more to me than you will ever mean to anyone, and I would die to protect him, James, Lily, and Harry. Family is not based on your blood, but love, loyalty, even _sentiment_.'

 

James gazed at Sirius in wonder, as the Auror indicated that the conversation was now over by casting the next spell, which was only just blocked by Voldemort, whose anger had stirred at the surprise attack.

 

'Very well.' He said, bluntly. 'If you will not join me, then I have no choice but to destroy you and everyone you love.'

 

He immediately followed his words and sent the Cruciatus curse at James, who rebounded the curse back at Voldemort, who vanished it immediately.

 

'You can try.' The messy haired boy spoke up, surprising both Voldemort and Sirius – the latter of whom felt a sense of reverence at his friend's courage. 'But you won't win, because we have something you don't.'

 

'Oh really, Potter, and what is that?' Voldemort questioned, patronisingly. 'Love? Did Dumbledore teach you that when he recruited you for this little chess game between me and him - a mindless pawn, fighting under false pretences of love?'

 

'No.' James answered coldly and swiftly. 'What we have, is something we're fighting for.'

 

He shot a harmful curse at Voldemort, who was quick to deflect it. 'I did not join this war because Dumbledore asked me to. I joined to protect my family.'

 

What followed next was an array of colour, and patterns. Each wand was handled with precision and determination. James and Sirius worked together to bring down Voldemort's defences, but thus far, the battle was at a stalemate, for both sides were, so far, evenly matched.

 

Not far away, a similar battle was taking place. Lily and Remus battled Bellatrix, who grew bored with deflecting their advanced curses. The deranged witch was not Voldemort's best warrior for nothing – she had been trained by him from when she was just a school girl. She was the first witch to become a Death Eater, and not only that, she was the worst. Voldemort had liked her cravings for torture and blood purity, and instantly taught her the most despicable spells and curses, each of which, she put into practice whilst battling the duo in front of her now.

 

What they all noticed, however, was that Lily was beginning to grow stressed and fatigued. She used her energies to keep Harry in her arms, but was getting slower with her wand movements. When Remus realised this, he raised his wand.

 

'Impedimenta!' The witch froze for mere seconds, but it bought Remus enough time to allow Lily to rest against him for support.

 

'Lily, get out of here. I can take her. Get to the shack and tell the Order what's happening. I have a feeling we won't be alone for much longer.'

 

'But-'

 

'Lily, please. I know I've only just met you and I have no right ordering you to do anything, but you need to understand that your priority right now is to get your son to safety. Sirius will look after James, and I can handle Bella-'

 

'Crucio!' The spell came out of nowhere and Remus quickly shielded Lily and Harry from it. He took the curse and howled in pain, before collapsing to the ground. Lily watched, wide eyed, as the werewolf writhed around, like a fish out of water.

 

Sirius heard the Remus's cries and turned to shoot a hex at his deranged relative. Before he had the chance though, the witch shrieked and flew through the air as Lily sent a curse at her. When she hit the ground, Remus was left panting on the grass, and Sirius turned back to his own fight.

 

'Thank you, Lily, but please, you must go.' Were Remus's first words.

 

The witch looked at him curiously for a moment, before she nodded. She placed Harry more firmly in her arms, and ran towards the Whomping Willow – which was the secret passageway towards the Shack.

 

Remus watched her go as he got to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed his opponent doing the same. When Bellatrix was steady, she shot several curses at him. He matched her advanced ability, which infuriated the witch even more than the knowledge that she had already lost two of her prey. Remus smirked at her as he shot countless, wandless spells at her. The more he shot, the harder it became for her to deflect them, so Bellatrix decided to try and use her words to torture him instead - it had always worked before.

 

'You're no match for me, Lupin.' She spat. 'You were always weak. I remember every whimper, every wail, every tear you shed because of me. You may be able to manipulate magic, but you will always be a monster. You filthy half-breed.'

 

Remus's jaw tightened as more spells formed from where his hands flourished in front of him. He created fire and lightening and thunder, all of which were hurtled at his antagonist. Bellatrix laughed madly as she deflected them all. She turned his fire into smoke, his lightening into shards of glass, and thunder into the howling of the wind.

 

Remus responded with a hiss as one of the shards of glass cut deep into his face. But he felt a brimming sense of satisfaction when the smoke cleared to find that Bellatrix now sported several burns across her face and wore newly singed hair. Her eyes were alight with fury, but her toothy grin never faltered as she cackled, sending shivers down Remus's spine.

 

The Death Eater followed this insane behavior by firing a spell that shot liquid silver from her wand. Remus had never come across such a dirty spell before and responded as best as he could. Being half blind, he was at the slight disadvantage though.

 

He had hoped his dead eye would hopefully go back to normal after not too long, but these hopes vanished when he could not evaporate all of the silver in time, causing half of it hit his face, covering his sightless eye with the corrosive substance.

 

The lycanthrope's cries startled Sirius and James. The former of the two looked over yet again to see Remus, knelt on the floor with his hands over the side of his face. The animagus let out a roar of disbelief and yelled for Bellatrix's attention, trusting James to protect him momentarily from Voldemort.

 

'Transmorgify!' He bellowed as he pointed his wand towards Bellatrix's sneering face, which was plagued by her toothy grin and taunting laughter. As she was caught unaware, the curse hit her squarely in the chest and instantly, she toppled over and cried out in pain. She was still laughing, even as the cracking of her bones could be heard even by Voldemort – she seemed to almost be enjoying the pain.

 

Voldemort's roar echoed Sirius's previous one, and the Dark wizard instantly increased the frequency and intensity of his spells.

 

'Sirius!' James pleaded, leaving the Auror no choice but to cease the Death Eater's pain and join back into his fight with Voldemort. Remus seemed to have gathered himself now anyway. The animagus turned, and saw Voldemort thrust every wand movement with more and more vigour each time. He rolled his sleeves up and joined again.

 

Similarly, Bellatrix (panting hard) had peeled back the sleeves of her lace bodice, but for a different reason. She exposed her Dark Mark, engraved into her ivory skin, but before Remus could do anything, she had already placed the tip of her wand on top of it, summoning the other Death Eater's to their aid.

 

Remus's heart stopped. The others were coming, they had no chance of escape unless the Order got here first.

 

He raised his hands in front of him and sent jets of ice from them. They hit the witch until she was thrown off balance. She snarled at him, and instantly, their duelling resumed.

 

The two groups battled for several more minutes, before the crack of apparition sounded numerous times around them. The Death Eaters were upon them. A brief flicker of fear passed through all three of the valiant wizards faces - but it was quickly consumed by a burning desire to battle all the more harder; and the desire to win.

 

As the cloaked figures closed in upon them, a noise sounded from beneath the Whomping Willow – a noise that made their hearts rejoice and their tanks fill with determination. They watched through the corner of their eyes as, single file, Order members readily ran out of the entrance at the foot of the tree. One Death Eater had been assigned for each of them.

 

They saw Andromeda Tonks run out and instantly pick Lucius Malfoy as her prey. She screamed, 'You dare to touch my daughter! I will burn you, you filth!' as she shot a jet of violet light at the aforementioned, who was unprepared for the surprise attack and was blasted ten feet across the grounds.

 

She ran after the blonde man, as her husband, Ted, also picked out one of Tonks' other _clients_ for his own battle. He was heard crying similar obscenities to that of which his wife had used as he sent numerous spells at them.

 

'Avery!' They heard a voice yell. 'Get away from him. He is mine!' Sirius watched through the corner of his eye as he saw Gideon Prewitt throw off his cloak as he ran, freeing his arms. He pushed Frank Longbottom out of the way and, disregarding his wand, punched the Death Eater squarely in the face. 'You tortured and killed my brother, you bastard! Now it's time you got what you deserve!' And with a swipe of his wand, he began to duel. The skill was unmatched though – Prewitt was easily the better wizard. His curse shot whilst Avery deflected his previous one, and threw him off his feet. Avery crashed to the ground with a painful thud.

 

The Death Eater moved no more.

 

Whilst that battle had taken place, Thicknesse was seen being blasted off his feet by Dedalus Diggle, Rookwood stunned by Marline McKinnon, Scabior floored by Alice Longbottom, while Frank opted for Crabbe instead and came out victorious easily. They saw Barty Crouch collapse at Moody's feet, and Igor Karkaroff transfigured into a weasel by McGonagall. But what really drew in Sirius's attention was the quick movement of jet black hair as it emerged from the Willow.

 

Sirius watched with interest as Regulus immediately perused Snape, who (so it would seem) had double crossed them all – there was only one explanation as to why Voldemort knew the Potters' would be at Hogwarts on that particular night. There was only one explanation as to how Voldemort knew that tonight was the night that the Order had chosen to attack. There was only one explanation as to why Dumbledore was certain that we should attack on the night of the 10th.

 

And it was all those reasons which was why Regulus now shot curse after hex after curse at Snape, who struggled to compete with the complexity of the younger Black's movements.

 

But when Snape shot a Sectumsempra at Regulus, Sirius was all too ready to break off from his fight with Voldemort and personally kill Snape himself – especially when, to his horror, he found that when Regulus dodged the curse, the spell hit an unsuspecting Mr Weasley, who was battling another Death Eater: Jugson. He watched as the curse severed his entire right ear off, causing the wizard to emit a painful cry.

 

Luckily though, Sirius did not have to leave James, since Dumbledore had finally emerged from the sidelines to join the battle. He tactfully joined forces with Regulus, and together, they brought Snape down easily, while Marline McKinnon helped Mr Weasley with his injury.

 

Satisfied that the situation was handled, Sirius drew his full attention back to his fight with Voldemort – who was growing more and more enraged by the second. All other battles had ceased at this point now, save the two original ones, and so the number of spectators around the two remaining duels grew. They watched with terror and elation at what they saw next.

 

The more spells Remus sent in Bellatrix's direction, the more aggressive the witch's movements became. She sliced, flicked, and brandished her wand forcefully – but despite her advanced knowledge of magic, her anger proved to consume her. The more belligerent her performance became, the more risks she took.

 

After a particularly nasty spell that she shot at the lycanthrope rebounded back to her, narrowly missing her by inches, Bellatrix finally spoke coherently.

 

'You will never beat me, Lupin.' She shrieked. 'You are nothing. You are weak.'

 

She shot a spell at him, which sliced open his cheek – too close to his functioning eye – but that only caused him to continue to battle her with even more vigour. His lips were sealed in a thin line as he tried not to concentrate on her words. 'Your entire life you were worthless. Moaning and whining about how unfair your life was – but you deserved it.' Her sneer amplified her provocative demeanour. 'All of it!'

 

But her tactical goading was interrupted by a loud crack, which echoed across the grounds and caused the ancient, reticent walls of the castle to vibrate. Magic radiated from Remus himself and caused the witch's bones to crack when she flew backwards and collided with an old oak tree. Remus approached Bellatrix, who was – at this point – reduced to her hands and knees as she tried to crawl away from him, but to no avail. His shadow loomed over her, and he spoke, with a look of bitterness in his eye.

 

'No, I didn't.'

 

The words were articulated so coldly and spitefully that even Bellatrix's eyes widened. At first, she did not know what he was referring to, but that indifference did not last long. The werewolf continued, 'I did not deserve any of the pain that you inflicted upon me.' His hands flourished, sending a spell at her, which she was not quick enough to block. Her hands gave way and she fell on her back.

 

He snarled, a flicker of the wolf and the last imprints of Moony could be seen in his emerald eye. 'I am not weak, and I am not worthless.'

 

'You are merciful. You thrive to be good. That is your downfall.' Bellatrix spat, as she stood up (Remus did not intrude her in this task – he wanted to beat her in a fair fight after all). 'So set on proving yourself to be different from the wolf that you grew soft and foolish.'

 

She sent a Crucio at him, which he quickly deflected. He proceeded to fire sparks, flames and ice at her until she was left defenceless. He finished with a streak of ebony light, which soured beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest. He body shrank – as though all the life had been squeezed out – and she stared at the lycanthrope, who strode towards her and looked her squarely in the eyes, as she stood: frozen.

 

'I may abhor the wolf, but do not think for one second that we are exclusive. You pick a fight with me, and you pick a fight with both of us. I am the wolf, Bellatrix, and you are my prey.'

 

He slapped her across the face, which caused her greying flesh to crack and break. The witch shattered into a thousand pieces and tumbled to the floor, where dead grass (made so from the intensity of their duelling) was her pillow.

 

'NOO!' A deep, cold voice roared. Remus looked up from the ashes of Bellatrix to see a whirl of colour as Voldemort expelled magic from every inch of his being. Sirius and James shot into the air and were thrown into the trunk of the Whomping Willow.

 

Remus had no time to help his friends though, because Voldemort had started to glide towards him, a look of pure murder upon his countenance. Remus backed away, but it was no use. He had to face him. There was no escape.

 

Voldemort shot first – a killing curse, which Remus had to dive to miss. It continued like that for an age – the spectators watched in awe and fear, as they dared not intervene. Voldemort was the attack, whilst Remus fiercely battled in his defence. But alas, he began to tire quickly; he had endured too much in such a short space of time, and his muscles began to protest.

 

When Voldemort only increased his wand movements, Remus was all too ready to accept defeat, he had done part of his duty and killed Bellatrix anyway – but that mindset was gone in a heartbeat when Sirius appeared at his side. Moments later, they was joined by James, and Lily – who had joined the battle with the others earlier. Together they weakened Voldemort, until he was just as tired and fatigued as Remus had been. The way they executed their spells and worked with one another soundlessly was beautiful, like they were creating an everlasting piece of art. When their task was complete though, the other three looked at Sirius knowingly, as the animagus nodded in understanding and stepped forward.

 

'You're going to die tonight, Tom.' He did not need to shout for his words to be heard across the grounds. They were muttered with such conviction that Voldemort panted out a breathy laugh.

 

'You're a fool, Black.'

 

Sirius was unperturbed.

 

'It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly, one begins to twist fact to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.' He countered, omnisciently. 'You call me a fool, yet I will defeat you.'

 

'You cannot kill me, Sirius Black. I cannot be killed.' Voldemort retaliated.

 

Sirius's confident smirk made the wizard all the more forceful in his magic. 'Avada Kadavra!'

 

Sirius quickly shot a spell in response, but what he had not anticipated for, however, was for his wand to enter a Priori Incantatem with the dark wizard's. Had this been what Remus had meant before when he had said that Sirius was destined to kill Voldemort? Questions spiralled through his mind as he tried to focus on the duel.

 

'Your Horcruxes are gone, Tom.' He stated, with mirth. The sparks of the flames drowned the volume of their speech slightly, but the dark wizard heard him clearly. 'They're gone; you're just as mortal as I am.'

 

Voldemort stretched his green light further and further towards the animagus. The connection between the wands cracked and spat when Sirius met his power with equal force. To the Dark Lord's spite, the animagus's passion outweighed Voldemort's boiling fury.

 

'Even your Werewolf, Black?' Voldemort wondered, amused. He laughed, degradingly at Sirius, who looked at him in disgust. 'Little, Loony Lupin is still alive. While he lives, so do I.'

 

Voldemort's eyes pierced into Sirius's. The latter did not flinch, and calmly, kept his control. He was the silent predator, who carefully calculated all his moves.

 

'Remus lives, Tom, but Moony died.'

 

'How dare you say that-'

 

'Yes, I dare, Tom. I'm not afraid of you. These people here are not afraid of you anymore.' He used his free arm to gesture towards the members of the audience, who were battered, but otherwise alive.

 

When his arm pointed to Remus, James, and Lily, he continued. 'While you were out torturing someone I _love_ , you failed to notice one thing: he was not yours anymore. James killed Moony; killed your prized Horcrux. You and Bellatrix were torturing a man who had seen death, and you never noticed; never cared. You played with a man who had cheated death, not for any reason but to spite me and demonstrate your power. But your power has run out, Tom. You're mortal now, and you will never touch the people I love again.'

 

With a final flourish, Sirius's jet of red closed the green gap between them. His spell radiated gold sparks as it hit Voldemort above his heart, who fell backwards, arms splayed; the slit pupils of his scarlet eyes rolled upwards into his head.

 

Tom Marvolo Riddle hit the burgundy grass with a mundane fatality, equal with his victims in death. His body feeble, and his snake-like face vacant, and hollow.

 

There was a deathly silence as Sirius stood over his dead body, before the entire grounds erupted with cheer. Sirius found himself enclosed in a colossal hug by Remus, James, Lily, and the rest of the Order. Lily and James were screaming while Remus repeated,

 

'You did it, Sirius! You did it. I knew you could.'

 

When everyone had calmed down from the celebration, the Order members were assigned jobs to take the Death Eaters off to the Ministry, and inform the Wizarding community of the news. Voldemort's body was moved away from where the casualties were being treated by Madame Pomfrey, and Sirius found himself sat on a bench next to Marline McKinnon. She was on a break after confirming all those who had died and who still needed treating.

 

'I'd want some peace if I were you.' She stated, omnisciently. Sirius gazed at her and scoffed with mirth.

 

'Definitely.'

 

'Go find him, then.' She replied, as if it were obvious.

 

'Find who?' Sirius asked, feigning indifference.

 

'Don't you play that card with me, Sirius Black.' She simulated reproval.

 

'Fine. Fine.' He dramatically sighed in resignation, and waved his fingers at her in mock irritation. He then stood up, huffing – although Marline definitely saw him repress a grin. When Sirius left her on the bench, she knew exactly who he was going to find. And after he had wandered off, the witch no longer needed to hide her smile behind her hand.

 

Sirius journeyed to find the first person that came to his mind: Remus.

 

The said lycanthrope was leant against the tree that faced the Black Lake. As Sirius strode towards him, the animagus observed Lily, James and Harry: all embraced in a joyful reunion. He saw them both laugh and cry with relief, and they looked as though they would never leave each other's side again. Even Harry – who understood little of what was going on – somehow understood that this particular moment was important for him as well as his parents, and hugged them both back with all his strength. Sirius smiled fondly at his family, and leant against the tree at Remus's side.

 

'This was my favourite tree when I was at school.'

 

'I know, you told me.' Remus stated, smiling serenely. He turned to face the tree and raised his fingertips to the rough bark, tracing over the cravings Sirius had cut into the tree back in his third year.

 

_Padfoot & Prongs._

 

There was a crescent moon engraved underneath the names; for Remus.

 

The werewolf then turned back to face the lake and bent his head, lowering it onto a now surprised and blushing Sirius's shoulder. When he felt Sirius turn his head down to gaze at the lycanthrope in surprised wonder, Remus looked back up, curiously.

 

'Hello?' He asked, bemused.

 

Sirius's befuddled expression transformed into a beaming grin.

 

'Hello, Remus Lupin.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'We did it, we bashed them, wee Siri's the one,  
> And Voldy's gone mouldy, so now let's have fun!'


	14. Mr Lupin, by Dr J Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quite-long-for-an epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! D:

**Quite long for an epilogue: Mr Lupin, by Dr James Potter**

 

* * *

 

The first time I met a one Remus Lupin was the early morning of 11th Feburary 1982: the day we were to venture to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to save my family and defeat Lord Voldemort. We met properly for the first time at the front gate of Lestrange Manor, and after a curious incident involving a group of ravenous Death Eaters, violent curses, and the downfall of the darkest wizard to ever exist, we were branded henceforth as fellow Marauders and best friends.

 

From that moment onwards, I spent many a year of my adulthood with that peculiar man: solving crossword puzzles and plundering our way through our mature responsibilities, and – much to our delight – still managing to pick up decent payrolls in between.

 

One of the most monumental moments in our friendship, though, was when Padfoot and I offered to spend our first full moon with Remus - it was to be the first he would experience as Remus, and not as either Moony, or unconscious (he did not remember the January moon due to the intensity of Bellatrix's torture methods inflicted upon him).

 

I remember that evening: it is engraved in my memory forever. We had locked ourselves in the basement of our house. Sirius and I had turned away as Remus stripped down to his underwear and prepared himself in the corner of the room, as far away from us as possible. I stole a glance at Sirius to find him nervously biting his lip whilst he looked to the ground. When he caught my eye, his face reverted back to its usual stoic self, and he straightened up slightly, before turning around.

 

'You ready, Rem?' He asked as he walked over.

 

'Don't come much closer, Sirius.' The lycanthrope replied. 'I still don't know how the wolf will react – he's uncannily dormant today. It's frightening.'

 

My friend ignored Remus's warning, continued to stride towards him. I watched intriguingly as he keeled down to be eye level with Remus. The former took the latter's hands in his.

 

'Do you feel the tremors?' Sirius's eyes were filled with concern, albeit they were calculated. When Remus swallowed heavily and shook his head, the animagus freed one of his hands and brought it to the werewolf's forehead; he spread his fingers as he pressed against Remus gently. 'Your temperature isn't up either. You're not feverish and clammy, like you usually are.' He concluded.

 

I remember my eyebrows knitted themselves together as I tried to comprehend the meaning of my friend's analysis. I watched as he continued to check Remus over – I could tell it made Remus feel exposed and uncomfortable, but when I tried to intervene, we shared a look which told me everything was fine and that he would tell Sirius if it was not. I took heed of his expression, but I could not fully hold back.

 

'Padfoot, why are you doing this?' I questioned.

 

'Remus, what time's moonrise?' He ignored my question and asked instead.

 

'20:30.' Remus answered automatically. The forlorn look in his eye was replaced by a shining emerald, as he seemed to have stumbled upon a revelation. He looked up from the ground that he was previously staring at, and at Sirius, who watched him in anticipation.

 

I confess I was befuddled by this point, but I dared not interrupt them. I need not voice my thoughts, however, for Remus answered them for me. 'But... It's... James, what time is it?'

 

'Why, it's eight, thirty five.' Said I, as I checked my watch.

 

'But, that means...' Remus trailed off and looked intently into Sirius's eyes, for what seemed like clarification. To the lycanthrope's misfortune, however, Sirius closed to eyes to him.

 

Then there was a silence.

 

It rang out through the room and made all three of us feel anxious. When Sirius inhaled deeply, both Remus and I stared at him in anticipation. After blinking several times, the animagus opened his eyes and pursed his lips. Remus looked so forlorn though, that he could not keep up what appeared to be his façade.

 

And he slowly nodded.

 

What happened next was like a bombshell: Remus laughed loudly with relief, and threw his arms out to embrace Sirius joyfully. What really aroused my amazement, though, was that Sirius responded with equal passion. After what seemed an age, albeit it felt like no time at all at the same time, they broke apart and saw my confused look. Remus looked quickly at Sirius before he got up and walked over to me.

 

He flung his arms around my neck, as he had done with Sirius, except this felt more like a brotherly hug than what I had witnessed previously. I hugged him back, but my hesitance betrayed my still puzzled demeanour. Remus laughed again, but this time quieter as he breathed in my ear.

 

'The wolf is gone.'

 

**XxX**

 

When we exited the basement and ventured into the dining room, the atmosphere was much more relaxed. The other two sat down at the table, while I made tea for me, hot chocolate for Remus, and just boiling hot water for Sirius – the latter was a man of many tastes.

 

When I joined them at the table, Lily entered the room, rubbing her eyes. She inquired as to why we weren't in the basement and, more importantly, why Remus was not currently a fully-fledged, feral wolf.

 

Sirius beckoned for her to sit and began.

 

'I guess the situation isn't entirely problematic if you think about it.' He paused to allow the traditional collective eye roll. 'Remus didn't transform because when he became the Horcrux, the part of Voldemort's soul latched onto Moony (the wolf) not Remus. Ultimately, when the Horcrux was destroyed, it had to be fully destroyed for the segment of the soul to shatter. That could have only happened, leaving Remus alive, if it was the wolf that died with the Horcrux only.'

 

'But I had a choice. I spoke with someone after I was supposedly killed. They offered me the chance to die or to stay alive.' Remus countered.

 

'Yes, because the wolf was part of you too.' Sirius concluded. 'It was such a big part of your life that you had the chance to die with it. You even told Bellatrix, while you were duelling her, that you and Moony – and by Moony, I am referring to the wolf counterpart as well as the Horcrux - were not mutually exclusive. It's obvious that death gave you the choice, although he might have given you it begrudgingly, he had to; he probably thought that you would have wanted to move on from this life anyhow.'

 

'But I didn't.' Remus almost whispered, the ghost of a smile spread across his face.

 

Sirius placed a hand on top of his and squeezed lightly.

 

'You didn't.' He confirmed and smiled back.

 

'What about the silver?' Lily pondered, interrupting the moment. Sirius looked at her, encouraging her to continue. 'Remus was only allergic to silver because of his lycanthropy, yet, when Bellatrix shot the silver at him, it completely obliterated Remus's chances of recovering the sight in his eye, why?'

 

All three of us subconsciously glanced at the silver orb that layered a thick skin over what was once an enchanting emerald. Remus avoided all our looks and focused on him and Sirius's hands.

 

'It wasn't just silver, Lily.' He told her. 'It was liquid silver. If I had been allergic to the silver, my injuries would have been much more severe than those I got – I always wondered why it hadn't spread more than it had, I guess this is why.'

 

Without asking for permission, Sirius reached his other hand out and traced the silver engravings on the side of Remus's face; those a significantly darker grey to that of the other, more ivory patterns upon his placid flesh.

 

'Do you know the melting point of pure Silver, Mrs Potter?' He asked, not taking his eyes away from the solidified metal once as he addressed her. When Lily seemed reluctant to answer him, and pursed her lips in a way only McGonagall could compete with, Sirius smirked in a charming, albeit victorious way. '961 degrees C.'

 

'The force of the heat that hit my face was enough pain to put me out of action for a while, but not enough to do so permanently.' Remus added. 'Thinking about it now, I don't think I would have been likely to survive if I was allergic to it as well. You saw the intensity of Greyback's injuries...'

 

He felt shame – it was apparent in his words and his expression; it was particularly upsetting, and so I quickly made to change the subject, away from Greyback, which I could see he was thankful for.

 

'What about your quick healing process the night we rescued you?' I asked, intrigued. 'You were unable to even stand when Sirius found you, but within an hour after, you were able to defeat one of the most powerful, albeit mental, dark witches of all time. Both Sirius and I witnessed the fight through the corner of our eyes: you simply should not have been able to perform the level of magic that you did. It was phenomenal.'

 

'That one, I think, is more difficult to explain... But not impossible.' Remus answered quickly, for Sirius looked eager to respond. The ex-lycanthrope shot him a look and he turned away, looking slightly petulant.

 

Remus then turned to face me and leaned forwards whilst rubbing the back of his head. He seemed in thought on how to explain it. 'When I create magic, James, half the time I'm not aware of it. I never went to Hogwarts, so I never learnt how to control it. The fact that I produce magic from my very being adds to this lack of control. The wolf, admittedly, enhanced my powers, but most of it was always there. It is because of this intractable magic that I am able to heal myself quickly. That and my lycanthropy are the main reason I must have survived before. It was also the reason Voldemort and Greyback scouted me out against the others.'

 

He then turned back to my best friend. 'Did I miss anything, Padfoot?'

 

'Well...' He ruffled his hair and leant back on his chair. 'Maybe not, but I think I have something important to say anyway.'

 

Remus looked at him cautiously. I saw his eye pierce into Sirius's as if solving a riddle.

 

'Go on.'

 

'I, er...' Sirius coughed and looked away. 'I already knew you weren't going to transform tonight.'

 

Remus blinked in disbelief.

 

'Bullshit.'

 

'I can assure you it is not.' Said Sirius, more confidently. 'The signs were clear, but to be sure, I could not tell you. I needed to see how you would react, and you reacted as one would under a placebo – it was highly interesting. It was scientifically intriguing, and I think we made a breakthrough in the behavioural differences associated with lycanthropy; I also managed to observe how the symptoms affect you, personally, even though the wolf was no longer there.'

 

Silence.

 

Sirius seemed not to notice the reason behind Remus's silence (it reminded me of his former self; his aloof and stoic demeanour). 'Remus-?'

 

'You made me... Go through the pains of my pre-transformation... For science? You neglected to inform me that my most shameful dysphoria was gone, after everything it put me through?'

 

Remus was trembling now. I looked over at Lily and I saw that she seemed just as concerned as I was. We looked in anticipation as the two men opposite stared at each other: one in anger, and one in comprehension and confusion. Finally, Sirius confirmed.

 

'Well... Yes, but-'

 

Remus reacted quickly. He ripped his hand away from the animagus's and punched Sirius in the jaw. The force of the impact caused Sirius to fly off his chair and land on the tiled floor painfully. Lily gasped and lunged out of her seat to hold Remus back, lest he resort to further violence. I knew he wouldn't, and so remained where I was.

 

'Come on, Remus, let's go check on Harry. We have surely woken him with all this ruckus.' Lily soothed.

 

Remus did not respond and instead, he simply nodded. I sat back in my seat and watched them exit the kitchen. When the door closed behind them, I shook my head in disbelief.

 

'You complete arse, Sirius.'

 

The aforementioned spat out blood, along with a tooth, onto the floor.

 

'What an opinionated observation you have made there, James.' He remarked. 'I do not deny it and I won't defend myself further. I have an observation, myself, though, although it is more of a question formulated through an observation: how is it that this single punch hurt more than all the spells Voldemort hit me with during the battle?'

 

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, while I got up out of my seat and took out my wand to vanish the blood on the floor. I stood just above Sirius, he looked to me for the answer, something that comes as an extreme rarity, and for once I had it.

 

'Because, unlike the others, you felt this one, Padfoot.'

 

I left him then, and went to check on Remus and Lily. I found my wife in the doorway of Harry's room and silently joined her. 'The idiot's fine.' I informed her. She sighed in response, her arms folded, as we looked at Remus, on the bed with Harry, telling him a story quietly, much to my son's awe.

 

I whispered so only Lily could hear me, 'How is he?'

 

'He's fine.' She answered swiftly.

 

'He bloody isn't!' I countered, my voice going strangely high. When she glared at me, I defended, 'After that response, you can't expect me to believe that. I don't think he'll ever forgive Sirius for that!'

 

'He already has, James.' She sounded tired. 'He forgave him before the punch. It wasn't in anger that he chose to respond with violence; Remus has been angry his entire life – Sirius knows this – but yet he never physically retaliated back straight away. Yes, he wanted revenge for what Bellatrix and Voldemort did, but it was through the knowledge that he wanted to protect us that he actually acted upon his desires, not his anger. Remus punched Sirius to show him that he was hurt, not because he was angry.'

 

'He told you all this?' I wondered.

 

'He didn't need to.'

 

Lily and I looked at each other after that, and from her look, I knew that she was right.

 

This was proven when morning came, for Sirius and Remus acted as if none of the previous affairs of last night had occurred. Remus looked slightly ashamed of the forming bruise on the side of Sirius's face, though, but he never said anything.

 

When Harry inquired what had happened to Sirius, the latter replied with a dramatic story about how he got into a fight with an almighty werewolf because he said and did some things he probably shouldn't have, etcetera.

 

The fact Remus smiled slightly at the story did not go unnoticed.

 

We also confirmed later that day that despite the fact that Moony was destroyed, the werewolf packs were still under Remus's control. But we did not take advantage of this wrongly. It was actually the opposite.

 

The morning after, Remus went to the Ministry with Sirius (I also came along for support) and together, we managed to get him a job at the werewolf registry. When I say this, I do not mean the prejudiced, stereotypical registry that the Ministry had during the war; this was the newly developing one. With Remus placed in charge as immediate head of the department, eventual equality between wizards and werewolves was vastly progressing, what with the numerous talks Remus gave to help make wizards understand their affliction, and help eliminate the ignorance of wizarding society. It especially helped when Lily started giving similar talks on the consequences of discriminating against wizards due to their "blood purity".

 

As well as giving talks, though, Remus was also able to apply his advanced knowledge of Arithmancy to his new position. By calculating the statistics of werewolves, he was able develop how the Ministry was definitely going to finance those werewolves living in poverty, so that they did not have to live in packs anymore. Remus helped the werewolves come out of hiding and eventually accept themselves. They no longer feared scrutiny and abuse, because they were accepted as normal citizens, and thus were able to live a normal life, without the label of _lycanthrope_ getting in the way.

 

It was monumental.

 

**XxX**

 

But anyway, my diversion of topic has lead me to remain indifferent to discussing my new friend as a person. Picking back up from where I left off, I can tell you that despite our craving for mischief and exhilaration, it was proven that Remus and I could also be serious and mature when our conversations would swift into uneasy territory.

 

Namely: the uncanny mechanics of Sirius Black's mind.

 

What first struck me as bizarre about my newest, enigmatical friend was how he had an extraordinary gift to always be able to see what others could not – much to my incredulity. As well as this, Remus matched Sirius in terms of brilliance of the mind; being able to store any piece of information about his choice whenever he chose, in his 'Mind Palace'. The aforementioned was named as much because Remus's mind was his most prized possession. It was the organ that had kept him going; kept him sane – as opposed to Sirius's, which was referred to as his 'Palace of Solitude', because he had claimed that no other individual could enter his Palace - hence the 'Solitude' segment of its title.

 

And he was right: no one could enter his palace... This is, until Remus came along.

 

But Remus had challenged more than just the security of Sirius Black's mind, because despite my best friend's skill and talent with regard to logic and the process of deduction, Sirius never used to understand the workings of Human emotion - namely love. That particular emotion use to be one that he would speak of in disgust, as if it were the plague.

 

Notice the past tense?

 

 _'Love is an emotional thing, James, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. You see, the emotional qualities of human existence – if you can call them qualities – are antagonistic to clear reasoning; the thing I strive for most in this world.'_ I recall he once remarked idly when I used to question him on his stoic approach to sentimentality.

 

Now, though, he would merely shrug, and quickly make his exit from whatever room we were residing in at the time. It does not take a genius to work out to whom he would excuse himself to go and see.

 

* * *

 

During the school holidays of our Hogwarts years, I could not protect Sirius from his ghastly family – it plagued me to leave him at the platform, for I knew the kind of treatment he would receive from them. The amount of bruises that welcomed me every January and September left little to the imagination. What I would always marvel at was Sirius's determination and masochistic need to return to his family (at least I thought it was masochistic at the time). I was never allowed contact with him during the holidays, Sirius forbade me. Usually, the idea of Sirius ordering me like he did our first departing from Hogwarts was laughable, but the apprehensive sincerity in his eyes was anything but humorous, so I loyally abided by his rule.

 

I remember writing him various letters over the holidays that I never sent. I would write about our traditional trips to go see my grandfather, Henry, who often grew quite lonely after the passing of my Grandmother. I wrote about my happiness, and my despondence at his absence. I remember wondering whether I would see him in Diagon Alley – I never did – and I wondered whether he was doing okay.

 

But alas, I was reassured when Sirius could break free of the shackles of Walburga and run towards me, as if we had not seen each other in years. This happened every time we were reunited at the train station. I often heard him talk of his marauding of the residents of Number 12, and especially the monstrous wrath of his mother and father.

 

Uncannily though, I recall him once mentioning the frequent visitors that his parents used to entertain. He informed me that he had eavesdropped on their conversations often, but it was only in second year that he stopped telling me what interesting information he had found out through listening behind closed doors. This behaviour obviously baffled me, as he used to be so indulgent in what his parents were doing, but I let it slide; and so after the Christmas holidays of second year, he was always reticent about his home life. I begrudgingly accepted his, and played along with Sirius's cheerful façade.

 

Now, as you will have noticed, my friend has spent an age telling me that I see but never observe. Most of the time, I shall admit, he was right. But what he did not know, though, was that I observed every facet of my best friend. For years I have worried about him; I noticed that, after that particular Christmas, he grew more outgoing, albeit cautious at the same time. He was an oxymoron. Even when he told me he was going to try and become an animagus, I confess I thought he was joking.

 

But Sirius was always serious.

 

Of course, I was not going to let him endure this arduous task alone, and so that was why I joined him. I had no idea of his real intentions until now.

 

Anyway, I continued to play along in silence until the summer holidays of fifth year, when we were 16. Sirius had turned up, unexpectedly, on my doorstep, bloodied, unwashed and bruised. He collapsed moments after our meeting out of pure exhaustion. I was terrified at that point. My parents and I helped him to a bed and, over time, he recovered. Through his moments in and out of consciousness, he never spoke of what had happened to him. And he had kept his silence since then - even years later, he had never spoken about why he had been disowned from his family.

 

It was only when Remus was there with him that he actually confided in me.

 

**XxX**

 

Sirius could never really be bothered to move out, despite the vast amount of gold he possessed, and because Sirius never wanted to move out, Remus was not allowed to either. This obviously vexed the latter, but he never complained... Not to Sirius's face anyway.

 

So when I walked in from work at St Mungo's, I honestly thought – from the way they were sat at the dining room table anticipating my arrival – that they were going to tell me that they had finally decided to move out. With this theory, I sat down in one of the empty chairs opposite and faced them – I noticed how Sirius nervously twiddled his thumbs, an odd action in itself, while Remus looked from him to me. When Sirius's silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, Remus stepped in for him.

 

'All right, James?'

 

'Better than you and Sirius look at the moment, I must say.' I replied. 'What's wrong? You haven't got Sirius pregnant, have you?'

 

Sirius looked up at that. Remus coughed on the air, while the animagus made a face like the one Harry would make when shown a pile of broccoli and peas.

 

'No, Prongs!' He pouted, irritably, and slouched back in his chair.

 

Remus and I scoffed.

 

'Sirius, calm down.' The former spoke. He repressed a smile before he turned back to face me. 'No, strangely enough, Sirius is not pregnant. I cannot fathom why you'd think that at all.' His wink did not go unnoticed by Sirius, who huffed petulantly. The lycanthrope snorted before changing his demeanour to a more sober one. 'Seriously though, Sirius and I have decided to tell you something you have no doubt wondered about for years.'

 

He briefly looked at Sirius, who nodded. He turned back and continued, 'We're going to tell you what happened when Sirius ran away from home.'

 

I perked up at that; needless to say I was shocked. They were not moving out then. They must have registered my shock from the way they looked at me. Sirius looked nervously stoic (because only Sirius Black could pull off both simultaneously).

 

'Is that all right with you, Prongs?' He asked.

 

I nodded.

 

Him and Remus shared a look - it made me feel as though I were intruding on something intimate. When Sirius's thumb twiddling got out of hand, Remus put his hands over them. I noticed how Sirius immediately relaxed upon the touch, and I smiled at them, which did not go unnoticed. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

 

'Okay, I'll tell you what I can remember.' Remus smiled warmly. His thumbs rubbed circles over Sirius knuckles. 'Has Padfoot told you what happened while I was imprisoned?'

 

'Not properly.' I answered. 'Sirius has always been very private about what happened during the holidays.'

 

'I must admit, that is not surprising.' Remus sighed. He removed one of his hands to rub the back of his neck. 'Right, okay. You know how I got captured and who by, right?'

 

'Yes.' said I.

 

'Okay, that makes things a little easier..' He calculated. 'Okay, basically, Voldemort used to get Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters to keep me under watch while they administered me with various potions. It was essential that I stay alive, but they knew that turning me into a Horcrux would take a lot of time, as no one had ever done it before. The knowledge that these sadistic ignoramus' had me under their control for a prolonged amount of time promoted their actions of inflicting vast amounts of intense pain upon me – as long as I didn't die, they would be exonerated from their actions.'

 

'Why would they risk it, though?' I could not help but interrupt.

 

'Because I was a werewolf.' He smiled bitterly. 'I was scum to them. Worse than a Muggle: an abandoned, half-blood, half-breed, who deserved everything they threw upon me.'

 

'That's not true, Remus.' Sirius remarked, as if daring either of us to question his words.

 

'I never said it was, Sirius.' The lycanthrope sighed. He closed his eyes for a brief period to compose himself – he looked tired. 'Anyway, when I met Sirius, he was thirteen and I was twelve. He had sneaked out of bed and ventured down to my chamber – I assumed he had heard my screams hours ago and was curious to find the source of what he had heard. It was a freezing night, and I remember trying to get as close to the lit torch as possible. It was nothing compared to the warmth that Sirius brought, though.'

 

The aforementioned blushed, but as Remus's eyes were still closed, he carried on, unperturbed to the wiggling eyebrows I was throwing at Sirius, while grinning wickedly. 'He found me and introduced himself; I was conflicted, for while I craved an ally in my prison, I did not want to expose him to the horrors I had to endeavour. What I quickly learnt though, was that I was not the only one to experience suffering at the hands of the Blacks.'

 

I had not meant for my knuckles to crack as loud as they did at the mention of the abuse my two friends suffered. My mood evaporated, though, when I noticed that while Sirius did not look angry or bitter, but sad, Remus appeared very antagonised as he reminisced.

 

Now, this was strange for me to witness, because if you have known Sirius for as long as I have, you would notice how he responds to certain situations in certain ways. The number one observation I had made through the years was that Sirius was never one to be sad - I knew this much. What he did get instead, though, was angry. The kind of angry that you really did not want to mess with, especially when it came to his family.

 

If you ever wanted my friend to get vexed, all you had to do was refer to him by his surname.

 

Remus, on the other hand, albeit I have not known him as long as I have known Sirius, is not one to respond to a situation with anger. As opposed to Sirius, Remus often dealt with situations calmly and rationally. He would take a deep breath and fuel his repressed anger into something that could be useful to him. If someone was being ignorant, he would channel that rage into an explanation that would win him the argument before it had even started. With this though, Remus did not always respond to everything he did not like in this way. When it came to personal things, instead of fighting the subject with words, he would retreat in on himself and become a small ball of desolation, wherein no one, sans Sirius, could pull him out.

 

Hence why I was baffled at their reversed reactions to what Remus had just told me. When I inquired this, I got a cold eye stare from Remus, which scared me. I hate to admit this, but Remus often reminds me of Moony when he is angry. It was frightening, and although I shall never admit this to Remus's face for fear of how he would react – he would probably avert back to his depressive state at the reminder of the wolf – it doesn't make my opinion any less true.

 

When I anxiously looked away from Remus and to Sirius, surprisingly, he also looked apprehensive at Remus's glare. He knew why though. And he never left any questions unanswered.

 

'Those years were dark times, and while I was only occasionally beaten for my rebellion, it was nothing to what they did to Remus.' He shifted closer to the aforementioned, which made the ex-lycanthrope relax slightly. 'I always elected to go home for the holidays because I honestly feared for Remus's life everyday. It built upon my anger towards my family for many years. When I did visit him – it was always at night – I would sneak food and drink to him; he was fed so little by his captors that his face grew more and more gaunt and pale with every visit.

 

'As well as bringing him food, I also brought along books on my nightly visits. As Remus suffered from nightmares, he abhorred sleep, and instead of leaving him to his thoughts, I would sometimes read to him – he told me he was passionate about Arithmancy and wanted to study it if he ever got out of his prison, so I mostly brought factual books. When he wasn't in the mood for my reading, though, we would just talk. Talk about my progression in becoming an animagus to keep Remus company during full moons, so that he wouldn't tear himself apart as much as he usually did. I accompanied him as Padfoot, for the first time, in fifth year. We would also talk about how we were both doing to escape at some point; wave goodbye and leave Grimmauld Place forever.

 

'And we did at 16.'

 

Sirius took a breath, as he gave me time to process what he had just said. Remus no longer looked angry, though, I observed, which was good, because I had concluded that I did not like Remus when he was angry. In fact, he looked eager for Sirius to enlighten me how they escaped that night. I thought that Remus might be aching for Sirius to go into detail because he, himself, could not remember what had happened.

 

I was right.

 

Fortunately, Sirius did not keep us long. 'It was set. We had the day and we had the time. I had fed Remus more than I usually did to give him the strength to be able to walk and run. He could not remember the last time he had been freed from his cage. What was weird though was that the Death Eaters were increasing Remus's food portions too.' He looked at Remus, sadly, 'You told me they were close to finishing their project and that they were increasing it so that you were more likely to survive the experiment.

 

'I took heed of this and changed the plan so that we were to escape a day earlier, but it was too late.' He looked down at his lap. 'I was at dinner with my parents and Reg: Mother was talking about how my hair was getting too long and that I was a shame to my family by merely breathing, and that I should be more like my brother, etcetera, when I heard it. Blood curdling screams. I wasn't the only one who had heard it too, even Reg perked up at that, but Mother and Father acted as though nothing had happened, although they could not hide their repulsed expressions. I suspect they hated that they had to host such a "vile creature" for so long. I was so angry that I yelled at them for answers; internally I was so scared, but they would not tell me. Eventually, my father dragged me by my hair to my room and locked me in there.

 

'But it bought me time, and plenty of it, to formulate the plan again and pack everything I would ever need. When everything was set and I knew everyone was asleep, I climbed out the window of my room and slid down a drainpipe to the ground. The living room window was still open and so I climbed back into the house through there. I then hastened for the basement. I should have known something was wrong from the moment I got there, but I didn't pay attention, which was strange because I always did that – I think it was because I was so eager to escape and take Remus away from his hell that I ignored all the warning signs. Opening the cage was elementary and exiting the house was even more so. Too easy, I thought. I made sure to hold Remus's hand the whole time so that we did not lose each other – I used to do the same to you when running from pranks, do you remember, Prongs?'

 

When I nodded, he continued, 'Once the breeze of the outside hit us, I would occasionally look at Remus out of the corner of my eye. He looked weak and pale, and would frequently stumble in his footing. I pinned it down to his years of imprisonment as opposed to what had happened earlier. I even asked him, but he would not reply.'

 

He looked up at Remus again, 'Your lack of communication frightened me, and it wasn't until we were running through a harvested cornfield that you finally spoke – well, I say speak, you sort of had a fit and collapsed - I confess that terrified me. I shook you to make sure you were okay. You didn't seem injured, but then you woke up and looked at me, like how you just looked at James, not two minutes ago. I reacted the same as Prongs: I was confused. It really threw me, for I hated it when I did not know the reasoning behind an action.

 

'But I didn't have time to question; everything went black. I think that the last thing I remember was you lunging at me. When I came to, I was alone. I checked myself for injuries, and although I was harmed, I was not unsalvageable, so I looked around for you, finding only puddles of blood beside the stream and on the bank. Too much blood. I came to the conclusion, then that you had died, maybe been murdered. It never occurred to me that Moony was behind it. I didn't believe what I saw, which was you attacking me, which was foolish, for I always trust my eyes. I thought we must've been jumped, or attacked by Death Eaters...

 

'I grew numb at having lost you. I simply sat on the bank in silence – I don't know how long I stayed there for, but the sun came up and I watched the sky brighten and turn from crimson, like the blood inches away from my hands, to the turquoise blue that brightened the grass of the field I was in. The green reminded me of your eyes, which made me melancholy. When the sky dampened and turned cloudy, I decided to begin my journey, alone. I followed the path of the river for a long while, until I came to the outskirts of your town. By this time the stars were out, and the waxing crescent moon was in view. Having no muggle money, I had no option but to continue to walk to your house, James. The journey was arduous, but I made it. I remember the shocked look on your face when you opened the door to find me there, not ever having been to your house before, ere the world began to swim, and darkness consumed me.'

 

When he finished his narrative, I was speechless. Remus, however, wasn't.

 

'I hurt you?' He looked both scandalised and forlorn.

 

'No, Moony hurt me.' Was the counter.

 

'It's the same thing!' Remus remarked.

 

'Look, Rem, just drop it. I'm fine – you're not to blame.' My best friend soothed.

 

This did not bode well, for Remus growled at the patronising tone present in Sirius's voice. The latter noticed this and corrected himself, 'Look, Moony was only just released. You're screaming from earlier that evening was because that was when the experiment was complete. You felt like an empty shell as we were escaping, I was just too stupid to realise that it was your body adjusting to Moony. Do not blame yourself.'

 

My best friend and I held our breath as we waited for Remus's response.

 

'Nice save, idiot.'

 

As I exhaled, I laughed, whereas Sirius sort of sighed contently. Then, I noticed the two of them look at me expectantly. As I did not know what they were waiting for, I merely blinked in response. It was Remus who came to my rescue. 'Any questions, James?'

 

I thought about this for a while.

 

'Why did you never tell me?' Was my reply; I tried not to sound accusatory.

 

'Because it was better that way.' The animagus answered, shrugging.

 

At this point, I got incredibly angry. I felt my heart race and my face burning. Blood pounded through my veins, and suddenly, I forgot myself. I lunged across the table at my unsuspecting friend. Remus watched, comprehending the situation, while I started to punch my friend, before someone suddenly flicked a switch in his head. The ex-lycanthrope dove into action and hooked his arms around me to pull me to my feet. I was screaming obscenities at my brother as he simply lay there, staring up at me, his demeanour aloof.

 

I must have made a right pandemonium, for moments later, Lily stormed into the room and berated us all for our behaviour. If anything, this only fuelled my anger, because I had not done anything wrong. It was Sirius, with his bloody expressionless face and his blasé countenance and him being so secretive that he could not care less about trusting his best friend with his problems.

 

I figured I was pretty damn justified to feel blameless and angry. I promptly told Lily this, but I think most of what I said was indecipherable, because she reacted by asking Remus to escort me out of the room while she spoke to Sirius. When I sat down on the sofa in the living room, though, I realised something.

 

Maybe I had overreacted.

 

Shortly after, Sirius and Lily joined us. Lily sat beside me, while Sirius elected to join Remus standing. There was a tense silence, before my wife forcefully coughed; her eyes never leaving Sirius's. My brother seemed to snap out of his daze. I waited patiently as he recovered himself.

 

'I'm sorry.' He finally looked into my eyes. 'I never told you because I wanted to protect you, and it's as simple as that.'

 

Everyone then looked expectantly at me. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. I swallowed thickly.

 

'I never needed protecting, Pads.' I sighed, as I rubbed my face with my hand. 'I thought we could trust each other with our problems. The fact that you couldn't trust me with something as important as this hurts me; you know that. So don't come up with some bullshit excuse about wanting to protect me.'

 

'I'm sorry.' Was all he could reply with.

 

'You know what, you're pathetic!' I spat, and abruptly stood and exited the room.

 

And yet, just like Remus had with Sirius prior, I forgave him by morning.

 

* * *

 

Now, there's one final subject that I would like to end this account with and that is love. It sounds cheesy just writing it, but I have to.

 

Mainly, to make Remus smirk and, of course, to spite Sirius.

 

Because although they never said it, they knew it was there. Their love was so pure that it did not need a name; a label. It was just Remus and Sirius. It was how they had always been, before life had got in the way, but the war was finally over, and we were all finally liberated.

 

But despite this freedom, never did they kiss, for it was in neither of their natures to feel physically intimate in that respect. Forbye that, they expressed their attraction through gentle touches and mere closeness - along with the power of words - as opposed to the stereotypes commonly associated with, dare I say it, love. It drove Lily crazy: the fact that the most intimate they would get would be holding hands or hugging, but she had come to understand: this was their way of showing each other that they actually cared about one another - they had been through too much together to be separated. Sex and libido were simply not how things worked between them; their love was a juxtaposition to all the other aspects of their lives: it was pure and innocent.

 

I remember the exact moment Lily and I realised that they were one soul; in love. We had walked in from a night out with the Longbottoms' to find them curled up on the sofa, the gentle glow of the fire illuminating their countenances. Remus's eyes were closed in a peaceful slumber; he had sought out the warmth and comfort of his canine by resting his head on Sirius's shoulder. The latter had the other's hand entwined with his, as he rubbed soft circles onto his partner's knuckles, all while he gazed into the spitting flames absentmindedly, albeit contently.

 

The atmosphere was so tranquil and surreal that we felt compelled to do anything but disturb them, and so instead we crept upstairs to check on Harry. As we passed, I could have sworn I had heard Sirius mumble a good night to us.

 

'They're so beautiful, James.' Lily had whispered, when out of their earshot. 'So precious.'

 

I confess I could not hide a smile.

 

'I think you might be right, Lils.'

 

**XxX**

 

I finally approached my best friend and inquired about what he thought on the subject of love, and how he had progressed through the sentimental department through the years. It was a blissful July, and Sirius was in our kitchen, baking Harry's birthday cake - he had not allowed anyone else to handle that kind of responsibility. I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to complete my medical reports, but I was distracted.

 

I turned in my seat to face Sirius, who was also distracted by something outside. I called his name three times before he actually processed that I had spoken. He turned away, coughing, and looked at me.

 

'Yes, Jamesie?'

 

'I asked you for your opinion on what happens when the levels of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin are released in significantly higher amounts when in the presence of a particular person.' Said I, scoffing in amusement.

 

This clearly caught him off guard. He knew I was talking about the dreaded L lexis, but he appeared to be re-evaluating the previous response that he had made years ago when I last asked him. After what seemed like several minutes of waiting patiently, he finally voiced his thoughts, which pleasantly shocked me.

 

'Well, emotion will always be - in my eyes - a weakness. It exposes the deepest vulnerability within our souls and, as shown through our journey, it is destined to end in death...' He paused to brood. 'But I guess, as much as love blinds us from realising our true intellect, in the end, it proved to be the primary tool that defeated a heartless monster.'

 

He then seemed to contemplate his next words. 'I suppose, from this analysis, that to be able to open up oneself to another fully - in a way that is different to loyal friendship - would not necessarily be a bad idea.'

 

'Have you opened yourself up to someone else, then, Padfoot?' I asked, smiling despite myself.

 

I saw him look out of the kitchen window, into the garden - where Remus was playing intently with Harry, as Lily stood over them and watched. They seemed to be immersed in a deep conversation, but when Remus made what appeared to be a witty comment, both Lily and Harry burst out laughing.

 

When my best friend caught my amused face observing him, he blushed and turned away from the window. 'Well, Padfoot, have you?'

 

Sirius seemed to be reluctant to answer the question - for he most certainly knew the answer. Again, he looked out of the window; I saw him catch Remus's eye and the two exchanged an affectionate smile between them. When the animagus looked back at me, he was smiling, a faint rose colour forming on both his cheeks.

 

'Yes... I suppose I have.'

 

* * *

 

_This is my brother: Sirius Black,  
_ _Who thought he understood love  
_ _As a weakness; a disease.  
_ _Something only sane people lack.  
_ _Although we loved him,  
_ _He never knew how to love back._

_This is my friend: Remus Lupin,  
_ _Who thought he could never have love.  
_ _His childhood was taken.  
_ _He fell off the right track.  
_ _Although he lost life,  
_ _He never knew how to get it back._

_These are two people  
_ _Who relied on their smarts.  
_ _When war brought them together,  
_ _It tore them apart.  
_ _But they built up the pieces,  
_ _Gave life a new start.  
_ _Their lives came together,  
_ _Made two halves a heart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things that weren't mentioned in the narrative, because James didn't feel the need to mention them, but could do to be sorted out anyway:  
> -Snape stayed a bad guy because Lily loves James; and as there was no prophecy, or death of Lily, or any tool of manipulation for Dumbledore to use to make him change sides for real, Snape did not become 'good'. SNAPE BASHING TO THE EXTREME!  
> -Dumbledore is pretty useless in this because I decided to show how he raised his army to fight the battles for him, while he sat on the side-lines, taking most of the credit for it anyway. Sorry, I hate him more than Snape.
> 
> I'm thinking of doing ficlets to follow the ASIB story (a bit like those Sir Conan Doyle did with Sherlock), I'd love to know what you think of the idea!
> 
> Thank you everyone who has read this. Please review, if you wish! :)


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